


Love is the death of duty

by Bethan_jackman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of thrones TV, game of thrones
Genre: Dark Dany, Dark Jon, Endgame, F/M, Fix It, Gendrya - Freeform, Jon/Dany - Freeform, Jonerys, Lets actually look at the plot, Multi, Post Season 8, Sort Of, Three eyed raven - Freeform, bran is dead, mind tricks, night king died too easily for him to be the worst enemy, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 103,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethan_jackman/pseuds/Bethan_jackman
Summary: I am the blood of the dragon and my dreams are coming true.A city burnt, a mad queen’s demise, a rightful king banished and a crippled boy to sit a top the ruins. But fire cannot kill a dragon, but only in death is the mind free.A sequel to the horror show that was season 8 and how when you actually look at the plot in both books and show you come up with this kind of theory which works





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

 

JON

 

The first dream that came to him after his resurrection had been strange, twisted, violent but Jon remembered every moment. The wall weeping blood and smoke, winter roses splattered with blood, a man not much older than he garbed in black and red his head covered with molten gold. He lay at the foot of the weeping wall and slowly his golden head would turn to ice and when his eyes opened they were piercing blue sapphires. The dream ended in fire and Jon would stand in the heat the flames licking up his body burning and not burning and through the flames he would see a small figure lying amongst the ashen skeletons and a voice that he recognised and yet could not remember cried again and again “Burn them all”.

The dreams came again every night repeating like a song until he told his people who had put the winter crown upon his head he was going south to treat with Daenerys Targaryen .

The dreams changed when he met her. That little queen who had a fury to match the beast she rode and a beauty that could match no other woman. She was sharp tongued and witty and kind but when he slept on that strange island his dreams changed. Elements remained, the man with the golden crown still awoke with piercing blue eyes, the roses still spattered with blood but now a murder of crows circled around a dragon floating in an ocean of blood and below a weirwood tree a broken wolf pup howled in pain. The flames still licked up his body but this time it was a woman’s voice who whispered “A dragon is not a slave”

Jon forgot about his first dream now intrigued with his second until He went beyond the wall with the vision of her face silently pleading with him to return to him. He had been stranded amongst brothers surrounded by his enemy and just as he knew that surely his death would come again she bathed him in fire and burnt the dead. She burnt them all and the beast named for the man with the golden crown fell beneath the ice and arose with piercing blue eyes.

She had wept over his comatose form on that ship and he had awoken to her face that beautiful face and he had fallen in love with his warrior queen, the heart that had been forced to beat still by steel reanimated harder than before and he had pledged himself to her his hand enclosed in her fiery one. Yet again the dream changed. The roses splattered with blood grew larger winding their way around his limbs as wolves danced with dragons their wings dusty with cobwebs. Crows with white eyes flew over head as the ground smouldered and amoungst them all beneath the weirwood a raven spread its wings and all the beasts bowed. Once again he was bathed in flames and her voice whispered “Fire cannot kill a dragon”

The journey to the north was their solace and they loved as hard as they could in the time they had, they shared their in the day and their bodies in the night but sleeping next to her did not stop the dreams which became more sinister. A screaming boy within a circle of limbs, the wall bled until it fell, the raven beneath the tree grew stronger as a kraken gasped for breath and the scars across his chest opened and fire weeped from them as a storm washed over him beating out the flames that erupted from his chest. Then her voice whispered amongst the terror “The dead are already here”

Samwell told him in front of his mother. The woman he had imagined for years hiding right beneath his home. He told Jon how Lord Stark had promised to his mother to protect him, that his father had died for his mother leaving his legacy to his last living son. The roses and the blood made sense then. The fire made sense at least in his dreams he was resistant to fire. But when he slept that night all he saw was death. Death and a raven with a third eye.

He had hoped the dreams would stop after the dawn had come and for a brief moment they left him. Left him to enjoy his life next to his queen surrounded by family and they called him king, a hero and he was drunk off arrogance and when she came to him words of fear and love tumbling from her mouth and he took her in, hands moving to her clothes like they had not days before but then his mind had jarred and his self loathing at what he so desperately craved overwhelmed him. She had begged and begged with him and then her eyes had turned cold and she had left and sleep had taken him as cold as death itself.

It was his mother that awaited him beneath the heart tree, her face veiled by a mask of lacquered wood. Her hands were bloodied with rose thorns and she hummed a familiar song.  
“They were never ours these trees” she whispered as he knelt before her in the ash. “We butchered these trees when we broke vows beneath them all those years ago”  
“I don’t understand”  
“ when they came they brought their god. An old one, older that the old and the new full of hate and deceit and darkness and when they broke their many vows their god instilled himself within the very trees he seemed to destroy. The weirwood gave him power that man had not yet before know . That power grew numbing man’s mind to good and decency, to honour and loyalty, twisting their morals making them greedy. So the children of the forest created their weapon, they created death, for only with death can the mind be free of sin.”  
Jon frowned but his mothers hands smoothed the lines away cupping his face bringing him close so he could see the grey eyes behind the mask.  
“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing. And she is alone and afraid, with no one free to guide or support her. Their minds are coddled with his power. His power grows stronger now than ever before and she is growing weaker. Soon he will take over her thoughts, her fears, her loves. He will take it all from her to conquer his enemy.”  
His tears burned his face as he cried into his mother’s hands “I won’t let him”  
“You must listen to what I am saying. Only in death can her mind be free. You must let him take control, you must let her become what so many other good kings and queens have become because of him. Only when she is alone can you free her. Only when she feels the most powerful will she be at her weakest her most vulnerable. Let her reach this point. You must play the northern fool for his power cannot reach your mind, only your deeds.”  
“I can’t” he whimpered knowing what his mother was telling him to do. “How will I know it will work”  
“You will not” Lyanna Stark whispered pressing a blackened dagger into his belt. “But I tell you this Aegon the lord of light brought you back with fire, and from the fire she will be reborn to remake the world. Fire cannot kill a dragon”

The dream had shaken him to the core, leaving him cold with sweat when the sun rose. What had made him heave was the small dagger he found in his sword belt. “Fire cannot kill a dragon” he had though when he had dressed “but steel can”

Yet the dream was pushed to the back of his mind by his own selfish want. He had made his sisters vow to him before the heart tree and he had seen what lurked behind their eyes, as if a cloud had masked their thoughts, numbed their promises. The power that had been instilled by lies and deceit was flowing thick and fast through each of his companions and his mother had not been wrong when he had landed at Dragonstone on that fateful day to see her advisors eyes clouded by it too. But it took the flames of the black beast to truly wake Jon from his dreams. As the spider turned to ash he saw the cloud appearing over her violet eyes as the flames danced higher and higher. Madness they would call it but Jon saw it for what it was, her mind was slipping into the hands of the very one she had vowed to protect and as the flames danced Jon stared into them seeing the figure from his dreams lying dead in the flames.

“I am the blood of the dragon” he had whispered to himself “and my dreams are coming true.

 

NOTES: So Jon has prophetic dreams just like Dany, kind of comes with the whole Targaryen thing.


	2. JON - A dragon is not a slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reflects on his decisions

CHAPTER 2

JON

It had been easy, he reflected as he rode up the kings road after it all. Easy to play what everybody believed him to be, the northern fool. Using the Three eyes raven’s trap against him for he knew that whilst he could not control Jon’s mind he could control the circumstances that played around Jon. It had broken Jon to see those he loved turn to fear, hatred, bigotry in the wake of such a deadly war and he used those feelings to fuel his determination. 

Speaking very little, repeating the very phrases he had practised in his head. They would expect him not to want the throne and so he shouted it to the world, in truth there were more important things at stake. They expected him to be torn between the love of his life, his Queen, and the identity that had been kept hidden from him and so he used it when Daenerys had begged him not to do just what the Three eyed raven wanted him to, fall into the trap of the honourable northern fool. He had kissed her and then pushed her away, his heart breaking piece by piece. That had been the hardest, pushing Dany away for he loved her more than his own identity and cared not for whispers and rumours that would come about their coupling when his parentage was revealed. 

Yet he could see that dull shadows behind her violet eyes, see her mind in limbo between her own and his. Jon knew that she was the hardest to control. A dragon is not a slave after all but with her sons dropping out of the sky like shot down ducks Jon knew that the Three eyed raven’s latch on her inner thoughts and demons was strengthening. Yet he persisted. “You are my Queen, she is the Queen, I do not want it” those foolish words he repeated again and again whilst inside the fire raged, the hate he had for this enemy that had taken Bran and all the rest. It had been so easy to play into his trap. But the hardest had been when Daenerys had held him close and whispered “Let it be fear” Those words had broken him, knowing what the three eyes raven would have her do that would lead to her own destruction. The worst of it was knowing that deep down in her mind there was a seed of rage and ruthlessness which stemmed from her blood but the Three eyed raven had turned that seed into a forest, a forest of hate, vengeance and madness. 

Jon could see her inner battles when she had sat atop her great beast on the battlements and the bells had rung. You must let her, he chanted, close your eyes, play the fool and watch the world burn. So he did, he watched as Dany had set her eyes on the red keep and then just like that seemingly change her mind letting Drogon raze the city. A dragon is not a slave, he chanted as he cried “FALL BACK” .

A dragon is not a slave he chanted as thousands screamed. 

A dragon is not a slave he chanted as Daenerys Stormborn stood in front of her now mindless army of savages screaming about breaking the wheel. 

A dragon is not a slave he chanted as his sister looked up at him the dark cloud behind her eyes blooming and spoke of killers.

He allowed his chanting respite as he condemned Tyrion to failure and listened as the dwarfs clever words were manipulated against him. He did not need to feign emotion, no that was raw, distraught and failure racked through his body as the tears fell to that dirty floor knowing what he must do and what was to come. 

No matter how many times he played it over his heart still ripped apart. Memories, his happiest memories of her replayed again and again, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she moved when he was within her , the way she had pleaded with him half herself half three eyed raven and part of him thought he could not do it. 

A dragon is not a slave and the dragon who lay in the snow outside the ruins of the throne room knew it. Drogon had risen his molten eyes had matched Jon’s and Jon knew that the beast knew what was to happen. So Jon did what he knew deep down he could always do. He shared his thoughts with the dragon. Flashes of dreams and prophecies all the while chanting “A dragon is not a slave” After a moment Drogon had blinked his consent.  
“You know what I must do” he thought surprising himself that this communication was not in the common, but that of his mother tongue, the tongue of dragons and Targaryens.  
“You know what to do after, where to go, you know this, fire cannot kill a dragon”   
The last dragon had simply given him a knowing look and let him past and then he was alone with her. The last hope this world had alone both looking up at the monstrosity their ancestors had built and as she spoke about her childhood, about the man with the golden crown and about the wheel, Jon saw her inner battle once more as he shouted about the children his last pitch of fury taken out not on the sweet, kind gentle woman he loved, but the mindless heartless queen who had been left open for the parasite to take hold. There they had stood, a boy with a bastards name and a girl who could not count to twenty, the last dragons and he took her in his arms, the pain of his actions flowing freely from his eyes as he felt her lips warm against his, her fervour and her love, his hand brushing her cheek one last time. 

A dragon is not a slave, he chanted quietly as the dagger had plunged into her heart and she had let out a gasp, so small it was like a whisper. He cradled her body as he watched as the shadow behind her eyes dissipated and the life that had once lit them vanished. 

The dragon had been true, setting a light to the chair that had plagued his mothers thoughts, burning it to molten steel, a puddle on the floor and then had lifted his mother so gently and had flown off, a lasting word ringing out in his tortured scream.

East.

NOTES: Thank you for all your kind comments, I am quite pleased with how this is going. Delving deeper into the books and things that are said in the show I am almost certain that the Three Eyed Raven is the true enemy.


	3. DAENERYS- Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “From the fire she was reborn to remake the world”

CHAPTER 3 

DAENERYS

When she had been a girl she had once asked her brother what it felt like to die. She had been six years old and she had overheard a merchant from Westeros telling the crowd how the mad king had been stabbed in the back. Daenerys had not realised at the time that he had been talking about her father.

Viserys who had sat and watched as life had slipped from their mother had snarled at her.   
“How am I supposed to know you insolent girl, I spend all my time trying to stop them from killing us and you wish to know how it feels?”  
It was the first time Viserys had ever truly scared her and after that she did not ask again. 

In fact she had rarely thought about dying. Only escaping from it. Yes, Daenerys had been doing that for all of her twenty years in the world. Assassins, men behind masks, ice spears, bolts loosed from a scorpion, dead men and poison laced in her food by little birds. Not in a million years did she think that it would be a blade that ended her. Especially a blade held by the man whom she loved above anything else, sometimes even above the iron throne. 

There she had stood at the might of her power before the throne that her ancestors had built and he had taken her into his arms, his eyes full of tears, asking questions she did not understand, that she would not understand and when he kissed her it was if the last few months had never existed and he was just a bastard King who was in love with a Queen. There had been so much fervour, so much love that she had felt the weight that had sat in her mind lift. The odd sense of powerlessness she had felt for days seemed to be burned away by his love, his passion. When he had touched her face the memories flooded back, the way he had held her, fucked her, loved her in every way he could, each image interrupted by the horror she had committed upon the city. She saw Jon smiling and then a child burning, she heard Jon murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and then she heard the scream of a woman being raped by her own men, she felt Jon’s hard body up against her and she felt the fire burning the hard stone houses. The horror flooded her mind so she had clung on to him, clung on to the only good thing she had left and as the cold hard steel pierced her heart and her lungs filled with blood all she could do was look. Look into the eyes of the man who had brought her good, decency, loyalty and love and how with one mighty blow he had taken it from her. Now she understood how he felt, how he had felt for months, how he could have everything he cared for, everything he loved taken from him in one flailing swoop and still love her after it all. She had tried to tell him before the cold reached her. The words had been on her lips but like most tragedies she could not form the words, the cold was consuming her its core the dagger in her heart, Jon’s tears freezing on her face. The Darkness was beckoning her like an old friend and she was happy to go. She would see her mother, her brothers, her father, Her sons. Daenerys would see them all now.

The anger and betrayal she felt was insurmountable when she realised that Jon Snow had been right. Darkness was all she was given in death. Darkness and Cold. There was no family ready to welcome her with open arms, no mother to soothe her tears, no brothers to tell her she had done all she could, no father to tell her she had reached to high to fast. No.

All there was, was darkness. In life she had been alone, and death would be no different. There was no sense of time, she could not even feel her body. All there was was nothing, nothing at all.

Until there wasn’t.

It started slowly, the piercing cold of the blade that had ended her seemed to grow warmer, its warmth spreading around her body, soon she could think, she could feel limbs, heavy and leaden. The warmth was hot now, seething like raw flesh on hot stone, too hot. She wanted to scream, yet she could not, her lungs were filled with fire roaring burning fire and for the first time in her life Daenerys Stormborn the unburnt knew what it felt like to burn. And it hurt. It was excruciating, smoke and flame filled her from within and Dany was paralysed to the flames.

She did not know how long she burned, she did not know how long the pain lasted. Maybe this is hell, maybe he condemned me to hell. But no. The pain was receding, her leaden limbs were lifting, the fire in her lungs was diminishing, or just becoming tolerable she was not sure. Just as she opened her eyes the vision of a woman with a red laquer mask and dark grey eyes flitted before her and then she saw the flames.

Daenerys Stormborn the unburnt. 

Gasps for fresh air came quick and fast making her head spin and suddenly her last memories rushed through. Jon. King’s Landing. The dagger. Tyrion. Varys. Rhaegal. Missandei. The rage she had felt before seemed unnatural, the memories of her fury seemed discoloured, only the dagger and Jon seemed clear. He had killed her. The man she loved had killed her, the man who had loved her had driven a dagger into her heart. She looked down, the long scar was deep and black, curving just under her Breast and tears started to fall down her cheeks. As the tears fell the flames diminished and Daenerys suddenly became aware of her surroundings.

The flames had come from Drogon. He crouched in the dark hall his molten eyes gazing at her a look of triumph on his face. She stared around the shock of being alive still pumping through her beating heart. The room was lined with men and women all dressed in dark red robes, there faces thrown into relief by her pyre. Dany moved awkwardly her limbs were stiff and she swung her legs off the stone slab and when she put her weight on her feet she almost crumpled. Hands pulled her to her feet, a soft warm robe was wrapped about her shoulders and Daenerys stared up into a woman’s face. The woman stared at her as if she was her god, an other being, she looked at her like no one in Westeros had ever look at her, like a Queen.

“Daenerys Stormborn, the lord has brought you back, from the fire you were reborn to remake the world”


	4. Daenerys- Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany is given a second chance

CHAPTER 4 

DAENERYS -Rise

The red woman helped her out of the hall into a side chamber, sitting her down before the hearth bringing her a cup of water. It was cool on her blistered lips.  
“What do you remember” the woman asked and Dany stared at the floor the cup cradled between her hands, tears splashing in the cool water.  
“I tried to do what I thought was right....and he murdered me for it” Just saying the words brought fresh waves of grief crashing over her. “Jon, the man I love, my own blood, he was the enemy all along”

To her horror the woman was smiling and shaking her head. “Oh no Daenerys, no Jon Snow is not your enemy, Jon Snow is your saviour, he has known the true enemy for a while now, it is why the Lord brought him back”

Daenerys looked up into her clear green eyes. “You are speaking in riddles priestess. He claimed to love me, told me he would fight with me until the end that I was his Queen, whispered sweet words to me and then after all was said and done turned on me, dagger in hand”

The woman moved to sit in the chair opposite her, her jade green eyes stared deeply into the flames as if she was seeing something Dany could not yet see.

“Aegon Targaryen knew what would happen when the she wolf destroyed the one that the Westerosi called the night king, he knew that the rot that his mothers people had brought to Westeros thousands of years ago, would take seed in the minds of weak men and women. That the rot would spread deceit, hate, betrayal, blood lust, power all the things you fear he knew it would come stronger than ever when the dead were destroyed. “

“Rot? Rot? What Rot?” Nothing was making sense and the woman still nodded.

“I have been on this land far longer than you can imagine, there are few on this land that have seen what I have seen. The Lord of Light chose me to lead his people against our enemy, an enemy which has been alive as long as there have been men with minds. When our enemy was brought to Westeros by the first men the children of the forest knew that they must act, so they created the wight walkers for in death the mind could be free. With the others, his power was subdued, reliant on simple animals to work his control but he has been able to twist the course of history with certain men. King’s, Lords, Captains. He filtrates their minds twists the seeds of uncertainty to better his control. Do you know yet of the rot i speak of?”

Daenerys frowned putting the pieces together.

“The dead were the enemy” she whispered her voice hoarse. “The night king killed my son.”

“The night king freed your son from the danger that lay ahead. You saw what your largest dragon did to the people of kings landing-“

“I did that to King’s Landing” Daenerys muttered.

“Did you?” The priestess raised an eyebrow. “Daenerys storm born, Khaleesi of the great grass sea, the breaker of chains, mother of dragons. You have freed slaves, saved women from rape, nurtured children, taught men justice. Tell me what were you thinking when you sat a top your dragon and those bells rang for surrender”  
Dany sat back closing her eyes trying to remember.  
“I...” She faultered her head spinning in confusion.

“You felt it, that pressure” the woman said “as if you couldn’t quite grasp control, like you were a puppet on a string”

The realisation crushed her, there should have been relief but there was none. “Are you telling me that Brandon Stark, he...he made me do those things?”

“Brandon Stark died a long time ago in a cave north of the wall. The thing that did this to you and all the others calls himself the three eyed raven. Everything that has happened to you, to the world is because of his manipulation and when his control slips drastic things happens.”

It was not fear that filled the woman’s face, Dany could not place the emotion, but unable to fully comprehend and accept the fact that maybe she had been a puppet in a greater plan she let the woman continue with her tale.

“ They have named him King in Westeros, he controls the minds of some of the most powerful leaders in the seven kingdoms. The Queen in the North, the Hand of the King, the master of ships. He controls them all. They are his creatures mindless men and women doing his bidding. He sees all so there is no escape. He knew that your advisors were concerned, so he isolated you, had men and women who once believed that you had come to save them then turn their backs. He revealed the truth of Aegon Targaryen to counter your rule, so that those same men would see a better option from the lonely grieving Queen. He ensured that the two advisors at your side which cautioned mercy and love were taken from you. Ensured that the two that remained questioned your reaction, used The spiders weakness against him to try to poison you driving you further and further away from measured thought and when your second son was pulled into the water and your mind was fractured he took control. The last war was his doing and he will not stop until every man woman and child are enslaved”

Daenerys sat back, the pieces forming together in her mind. “If I can be controlled by the three eyed raven why did you bring me back?”

“Your mind is free now, he cannot penetrate it , it has gone beyond the realms of the living and the fire within you, the fire that brought you back burns ever brighter”

The words were comforting and yet anger bubbled through her veins as the memory of cold hard steel driven into her heart flashed before her and the face of the man who wielded it.

“You speak not of Jon, he was manipulated into murdering me yes? This three eyed raven took his mind like he did mine”

The priestess frowned “No your grace as I said, Aegon knew , he has known for a while what would happen. His mind is free from corruption and control, he gained that right when the Lord brought him back.”

The words may have well as been the dagger, the blow struck hard. Jon had known, he had not been manipulated. Her murder was from his own fruition. He had made the decision to kill her.

“He betrayed me” Daenerys whispered staring down at the scar nestled beneath her breast a shaking finger moving to trace the line. The woman’s hand closed around her wrist and Dany looked up once more.

“No Daenerys Stormborn. He saved you, he knew you would return, he commanded your son to bring you to me-“

“Commanded? Jon has no command over Drogon” the words were vicious, the old pain of his parentage pushing the poison from her tongue. “He barely had command over Rhaegal, they are my sons he does not command them”

“Not in the way you do no. You are their mother they will always obey you but Aegon, He commands them in different ways. You forget his blood. Do you think it was chance that your brother sired him? That the woman who gave him life had the wolf blood in her? His power comes from that. The power that resides in the enemy resides in Aegon but is tempered with his fathers blood. The blood of the dragon. He does not command them with fire as you do. You brought your sons into this world with fire. So fire is your command. But his command is blood. He shares his thoughts, his feelings, his actions through his blood and the blood that runs through them. The green dragon and the white wolf. When he is hungry, they are hungry. When he loves, they love. When he kills, they kill. So long as he lives so do they. The fire within you binds you to your black beast. The blood within Aegon binds him to one named for his father”

“And like Rhaegar my son is dead. I saw him fall with my own eyes into the sea.”

The priestess shook her head “you must listen my Queen to what I am telling you. As long as Aegon lives then so does your son. Aegon is very much alive, the fury within him is as insurmountable as yours. You need him Daenerys, he needs you. Together you will remake this world. But only together for a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing”

Dany sighed, she wanted it. She wanted to win, to remake the world with Aegon at her side, to rid the world of evil. But she was weary of war, weary of death and magic and prophecies. In that moment she craved the darkness of death. It had been peaceful to be rid of responsibility. The burden of doing the right thing, of pushing on, of living in that moment seemed to hard.  
“I am weary of war Priestess” she whispered. “Let me go, let me go and find peace somewhere where they do not know me.” She stood cursing her aching limbs longing for sleep.

“You would let millions die because you are weary? You would forgo your destiny because you are tired?” Her voice grew angry but Daenerys did not care.

Daenerys smiled sadly “I have already allowed millions to die. I took my power and used it for slaughter, whether it was me or not I still did that. I burned them all and as for destiny? It seems to me that my nephew is the one for destiny, let him remake the world whilst I watch from afar. They were right he is decent, he is the better ruler, the rightful heir”

“The heir to what? The iron throne? It is gone, he commanded it so Your beast set it ablaze. Any birthright he has burnt with it. He is fit to rule because his people chose him. He died for his people and so they chose him. But your people did not choose him. They chose you. They knelt at your feet as you stood in the flames. If we are to win, if we are to survive against this evil the world will need to choose you both but most importantly you both will need to choose each other. Your power lies in the love that you have for each other, for the love you have for the liberated, for the free, free from physical harm, free from control. Nations where parents will grow to see their children become men and women. Nations which are not built on lies, betrayal and deceit but love, justice and mercy. You would grant him title as King, a father to a nation he must save yet you would deny him a chance to father the life that lies within you?”

Daenerys stopped her hand on the door handle, almost instinctively her hand moved to her navel.

“He gave you life, life for you, for your son, and most importantly your child so that you might help him rid the world of evil. Do not abandon him now when he needs you the most”

She was mad for hoping, her fingers pulling at the red wool trying to find a curve. “I am baron Priestess”

“Yes when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. It is folly and you know it. I am a learned woman, the high priestess, I have travelled far and wide to realms known and unknown and I know this. You stopped believing that second rate sorcery as soon as you laid eyes on the King in the North.”

Her heart leapt, a child. A real child within her, before long she would feel that child within her moving. Her child, Jon’s child. A second chance. The epitome of love. The dragon must have three heads. 

“You told me as long as Jon lives my son does as well”

Kinvara nodded.

DAny turned the handle of the door and pulled. “So take me to him” 

The chamber she was brought to was similar to the one she had awoken in. The walls were Lined with torches which burned low in the darkness throwing the robes men and women into shadow as they moved around the great beast. They’re not beasts to me, she had once said and it was true even now. Rhaegal has been a mixture of his brothers. As deadly as Drogon but as loving as Viserion. To see him laid out seemingly dead before her was a worse sight than Jon and the dagger.  
“How did you bring him here?” Daenerys asked as the descended the steps .

“An old friend, she knows how to move dragons without flight. An Empress who has lived as long as I have.”

Daenerys frowned “I wish to meet her, to thank her for helping”

“You will Daenerys, but not today, nor tommorrow. The Empress left the day before you rose. She is expecting a visitor. It was imperative she return to her home to greet them.”

“What home is this?”

“One where the power of the enemy has not yet reached. It will soon though, she must be ready”

Daenerys nodded, too tired to quiz further. She stepped towards Rhaegal. “You say he is alive?”

“He is”

“He does not look it” Dany muttered noting the stillness of her son. The bolt that had been shot through his neck had been removed. The wound covered in a dark glinting glass Daenerys knew to be dragon glass. His wings glinted with it too, each tear covered in a thin coating like armour.

“We are the lords soldiers, we can revive souls when the lord sees fit...but we are not blood of the dragon, we cannot command him. His rider is beyond the narrow sea, but his mother stands before him. The woman who gave him life come to give it again.”

Dany reached out a hand, her fingers brushing the great scaled head. Beneath the scales she felt the buzz of life, dormant but for her touch.

The hall around her fell silent as they watched the mother of dragons. A girl of twenty with a stab wound in her chest stroking a dragons head as if it were a true child of man. 

The word came easily. Such a simple word, so beautiful in her mother tongue but when she said it she felt the fire within her pass through to her second son igniting the life that the Kraken had tried to take from him.

“Sīmonagon”

NOTES: Phew that was a long one. The word she said to Rhaegal was rise. And for reference all of that conversation was done in High Valyrian. Coming up Tormund received news of King’s Landing and welcomes a broken Lord Commander home. As they make plans to go beyond the wall he realises that Jon has a new purpose.


	5. Tormund -  Freefolk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund defends Jon Snow

TORMUND

The raven had arrived a fortnight before he did. The crow that had delivered the news had his face smashed in when Tormund heard the what had happened down south and he made the crow repeat it to his people.  
“Daenerys Targaryen is dead, betrayed by Jon Snow, the bastard of winterfell and former warden of the north. For his crimes he has taken the black and will live out his days protecting the realm. By order of Brandon Stark, King of the six Kingdoms”

The uproar in the hall after hearing those words could have stirred the dead. Tormund has pummelled his fist against the scrubbed table for attention.

“Friends, family, freefolk. This is what I say to the southern king and his imp hand” He spat on the scroll that lay before him.

“Jon Snow died for us, he protected us when no one else would. It wasn’t just the northern men who named him King it was US. When he went south to get the Dragon Queen we did not oppose him. He united the largest army the world has ever seen and he fought and he won. The little she bear was right. He is my King from this day until his last fucking day!”

They had all roared their approval until a crow stood up. “Aye Jon Snow did that for you, for us, he came back from the dead, but he killed his Queen. He murdered the woman he pledged his allegiance to, the sentence he received from his King was more than justified”

Tormund frowned and beside him the direwolf moved uncomfortably.  
“How old are you crow?” He asked quietly.  
“Seven and forty”

Tormund nodded. “I spent my entire life beyond the wall, I do not know much of your southern history, but I have fought beside some of your best warriors. Tell me crow what did your southern lords do to Jamie Lannister when he put his sword in the mad kings back?”

The grotty crow stammered pathetically.

“I’ll tell you what they did” Tormund growled. “They fucking gave him golden armour and called him a hero.”

“The Kings guard have vows wildling, they do not take a wife, they wear no crown, win no glory-“

“He was fucking his sister and we all know it the fact is those southern fuckers do not deserve Jon Snow. When the crows killed him what did he do? Rose from the fucking dead and hung the bastards. When Sansa Stark came to castle black what did Jon Snow do? He got a fucking army and destroyed the Bolton scum. When the dead came marching on Winterfell what did he fucking do? Gave up the crown those shits put on his head and rode the fucking dragon. He’s fought again and again for those fucking shits and his fucking family and look how they have repaid him. Join the nights watch, take the black. Horse Shit” Tormund spat again at the feet of the crow.  
“We wait for our King’s return and we go north, to the real north. If your stinking north can be free then so can ours.” He raised his tankard watching as his people joined him in toasting the man who had died for them. “TO THE KING BEYOND THE WALL”

The direwolf knew Jon had arrived before he did, before the horn blew. Ghost slinked silently out of the hall and waited in the courtyard, watching as the men scrambled to open the gate. Tormund stepped out on the balcony and watched as the three figures rode in and in that moment Tormund knew. This was not the Jon Snow who had come to Mance Rayder all those years ago full of hope and glory. Nor was the man who watched the dead rise again at hardhome, the cold fury in his eyes was more dangerous than when he had hung the traitors, the sadness greater than when he set fire to the dead in winterfell. The Jon Snow who rode into the decrepit courtyard on that day was beyond consultation, beyond reason, beyond fury. Tormund saw the raw anger, hatred, fury, bloodlust and grief plain across his face. The only bout of happiness came when crouched before his wolf scratching his neck greeting his oldest friend. 

“They sent you back” Tormund called gruffly when Jon motioned for him to follow.  
Anger flashed before Jon’s face and Tormund chuckled to himself. “You didn’t go too willingly”  
“I went as willingly as I needed to” He grunted staring blindly out onto the courtyard.  
“You killed your Queen. You saved millions from slaughter and they sent you up here for it why?”  
They stepped onto the lift and braced for the launch up the wall.  
“You just said it” Jon whispered. “I killed my Queen. But I didn’t save millions of people. Not yet”  
Tormund frowned “Not yet?”  
“They sent me north because that’s what the Three eyed raven commanded. Daenerys burnt a city to the ground because that was what The Three Eyed raven commanded it. Arya destroyed the night king because that’s what he commander her to do. He has being playing them all like pawns infiltrating their minds planting seeds of destruction.”

The horror in Tormund wasn’t in what he was saying but that it made sense. He had grown up on stories of the children of the forest and a mysterious raven and now much like the wight walkers these stories had come true.

“He does not have your mind?” Tormund asked as they reached the top of the wall.  
Jon shook his head snarling. “My mind is safe, I died. He cannot control my mind, nor yours or any of the freefolk”

Tormund frowned “I don’t understand”

They stepped out onto the wall, the harsh wind blowing ice in their faces.

“I died for you, for you all and so you are protected from his influence.”

Tormund barked out a laugh, the boy had balls he would give him that. “You killed your Queen because she was being controlled, to set her free. You did it because you loved her”

Pain crossed the boys face and Tormund caught a glimpse of just how young he really was. “I still love her, I will never stop loving her” he paused and took a deep breath, blowing icy clouds out into the wind. “They call me Kinslayer”

Tormund frowned, the southerners had a lot of fancy words as titles most of which he did not know or care to understand, but he knew Kinslayer, the worst possible title to have. “Why would they call you that?”

“Because I am not the bastard of Ned Stark and some whore, I am the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the first son of Lyanna Stark. My real name is Aegon and I killed my aunt”

“But first you fucked her” Tormund barked out a laugh remembering how Davos had told him how little sleep he had got on the boat north. Jon glared at him fire behind his dark eyes and Tormund saw the dragon in him, as true as the one he had ridden into battle. 

“There was a significant amount of time between me fucking her and killing her” Jon muttered angrily.

Tormund shrugged “all the same, I do not know much about the dragon people. But I do know they fucked each other and killed each other so at least you kept up their consistency.”

Jon’s face cracked into a weary smile and Tormund clapped his hand on His friends shoulder. “So what will we do now?”

“We?”

“Yes we, the freefolk we follow you Jon Snow, we do as you command”

Jon pointed a gloved Hand out into the north. “We go North, further north than anyone and we build the largest army this world has ever and will ever see. It will not take days or months it will take years. But I will wait patiently and when the time comes I will destroy our enemy and free the world from enslavement.” He paused his dark eyes narrowing and Tormund sensed a wave of purpose and power move through the boy. “But not as Jon Snow” He stepped away from the plinth turning back to the cage. 

“As who then?” Tormund asked.

“As Aegon of House Targaryen, sixth of my name King of the Andals and the first men and the Rhoynar”

Tormund saw it then, he saw the dragon within him, and knew what he must do. Slowly he removed the golden bands he had worn for so long and set them at Jon’s feet. He removed his sword and did the same and then did what no other free man had done. He sunk to one knee. “And the freefolk”

The king surveyed him cautiously and then nodded to himself. “If that is what you think is best”

Tormund stared up into Jon’s face “I can think of no better King.”

“Then Tormund Giantsbane, I, Aegon of house Targaryen sixth my name, King of the Andals, The Rhoynar, The first men and the freefolk would name you Hand of the King”


	6. Arya -Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya contemplates the past before chaos ensues

Chapter 6 - Arya 

She jerked awake nausea filling her stomach as the memory of ash and flame left her mind and the surroundings of her darkened cabin came into view. Her dreams were often filled with fire and ash and ice now and if she wasn’t dreaming of death she was dreaming of calloused warm hands, deep blue eyes and the whispers of love. He had met her at the docks the day she left Blackwater bay. Dressed in modest leathers for the Lord of the Stormlands.

“You’re just going to go” Gendry had grumbled his eyebrows stitching together in pain his arms crossed tightly across his chest.  
Arya had smiled sadly not letting the inexplicable tears fall down her face. “Yes”  
He had cursed under his breath “I’m a fool, a fool to think you’d ever stay with me, that you would ever be my wife”

“There is more to the world than lords and their ladies, than weddings and pretty dresses. I want to see it”

“I wish I could see it with you” he had said softly his stubborn stance melting slightly.

Arya had reached up and touched his face “you have a kingdom to govern, my little brother needs you”

He had grabbed her wrist and kissed her palm “I need you” He whispered and Arya had giggled the tears falling stupidly down her face.

“You don’t need me”

“What if you don’t come back” He had murmured as he had closed the gap between them. “Then you know I found something”

He had laughed “and if you do?” She had seen the hope in his eyes and knew what he was asking.  
“Then you know I found something that’s worth telling people about”

He had kissed her then, harder than ever before, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the docks, one arm snaked around her waist the other scrunched at the nape of her neck. It was over too soon and Gendry had pulled back searching her face hungrily for something she did not know. “Safe travels my lady”

“You too my Lord”

It had been four moons since her departure and so far her journey had been bleak. After two weeks they had reached the three islands named for the Targaryen conquerors that Samwell Tarly had told her she would reach. The uninhabited island had provided the ship with supplies and they had spent half a moon replenishing their larder. They had feasted on the beaches on wild pig they had hunted and had mused about the future of Westeros.

“We will miss the Queens coronation my lady” Harwin had grumbled. 

“My sister will be fine and we’ve all seen enough coronations to know what will happen. Sansa will put on a pretty dress, all our lords and ladies will kneel and they will all shout Queen in the North”

“Your father would be proud.” The words were meant to confort her but somehow they didn’t.  
“Would he?”

Harwyn frowned “of course he raised a king, a Queen and a warrior”

Arya shook her head staring into the flames. “The only King he raised, his children sent to the wall”

“He committed treason” Harwin said uncomfortably. “Killed his Queen, his Kin”

Arya sighed standing. “We’ve all done far worse than that and we all prosper while he has to suffer”

They had now been sailing in open water for 3 moons. Arya spent her most of her time staring out into the horizon frantically searching for a jut of land on the horizon. When she wasn’t on board doing this she was pouring over maps and old texts reading furiously about what she might find. 

Slipping from her bunk Arya swept her hair from her sweaty face and stared into the small mirror which stood over the wooden basin. The scar above her eye was fading to a light pinkish rut. Her face had lost its childish roundness, high cheek bones protruded, her cheeks were hollowed. The wars had clouded her clear eyes and every time Arya stared into them she saw the faces of dead men And women, of burning children. The ship swayed beneath her violently knocking the basin and Arya to the floor. A roar of waves crashed against the port hole and the chest of draws that was not bolted to the floor crashed over narrowly missing Aryas leg. She swore loudly and scrambled up her hand reaching instinctively for needle. What use will that do against water and wind a voice asked inside her but she shook the thought off thinking only of what Jon had asked her “you’ve got your needle?”

Using the walls for support Arya dragged herself up the steps above deck only to be thrown backwards by a river of salt water. Cursing the old gods and the new she crawled up finally above deck to the terror outside. Waves as high as castle walls swelled around them and before her eyes she saw bodies, piles of dead bodies moving through them. It’s not real. She chanted as she staggered up to the ships wheel where clung the only northerner who was any good at commanding a ship. When announcing that her sister the heir to the winter crown was going west beyond Westeros Wynafryd Manderly had eagerly volunteered to accompany the Princess and her motley crew. The crew consisted of a handful of winterfell soldiers who had lost their families to war and slaughter, Harwin who was the sole survivor of the brotherhood without banners and unofficially Arya’s sworn sword. Not that she needed one. “Your hound is gone, and your lightning lord and your bullhead bastard been named a Lord, you need someone by your side who is foolish enough to step between you and an oncoming sword Princess. I would see that it be me” He had said as he had laid his sword at her feet at the command of their Queen. Arya had grudgingly accepted on the condition that he never refer to her as Princess. “I am no princess” she had grumbled and Harwin laughed and had referred to her as that ever since. “The princess of winterfell, they will write songs about you you know” 

Wynafryd was clinging to the wheel a look of hard determination set across her face as they braved for another wave. Hooking her elbow around the railing Arya pulled herself upright. “How goes it?” She cried above the rain and thunder.  
Manderly pointed up at their smallest mast which had split in half, the sail which had once bore a growling direwolf whipped in the wind in ribbons.  
“Get below deck your grace” she cried as she braved as waves crashed over the side soaking them both to the core. “GO!” The girl cried and Arya obeyed sprinting back down the wooden steps. Her boot heel caught on a protruding nail and she fell face first the rest of the way. Arya could taste blood and knew her nose was broken. Hands were pulling her up, gripping her shoulders Harwin was shouting words at her she could not hear over the roar of the storm. Her eyes stung with salt water, blood ran down her face and her head spun.  
“Arya!” Harwin shouted again. “Get below deck”  
But fear had set in, around them the storm raged and she saw as her men were jumping over board trying to avoid falling debris, trying to save their lives. I am going to die here, she thought, her head becoming oddly heavy. Harwin still shouted at her but she did not move. What do we say to the god of death. Today? Was that it? Was today the day? Aboard a ship she could not sail going to a place she could not see. Her thoughts of death suddenly halted when she felt the deck tilt dangerously upwards, ascending a dark green wave that seemed as tall as the high test tower in the red keep. There was a moment of calm and then she was falling in the air, her arms still gripped around Harwin’s neck as they fell through the stairway. 

Arya landed to the sound of cracking bones and somewhere in her mind she knew her back had broken. The pain she should have felt in her legs did not come and as the cabin filled with water she reached with numb finger towards the hilt of her dagger. Best end this now she thought. I’ll never walk again and death will come anyway. What do we say to the god of death? Today. She would not be conquered by death she would take control. Screaming in fury she ripped the sleeve of her jerkin exposing bruised pale skin of her forearms. What do we say to the god of death. Today. She flashed the blade and watched as the blood weld and dissipated into the salt water filling the room. She shut her eyes and waited, she would be with Father soon, and mother, Robb and baby Rickon. She would not be alone in death.

The legacy she would leave behind. Avenging her family, saving the north, the heir to the winter crown. All her life she had accomplished what she set out to do, she could let this one task go to waste. I have done enough, she thought to herself as her head swam. I have lived and loved and hated and killed, none could ask for a better life. The weight in her head was heavier now, the darkness darker and the coldness even colder. It was time.

 

Bile and salt water spluttered from her mouth as she gasped for air. Between her fingers she grasped at the grit and vomited some more. Is this death? Vomiting onto black grit? 

Grit.

Land.

She was on land. Forcing her eyes open she groaned and tried to roll on her back but a hand stopped her.

“Don’t move Arya Stark” A voice commanded.

Arya looked up into hard brown eyes. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I am who I am, and you are where you are. I have been waiting for you to come to me for a long time”


	7. Jon - The return of the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King rebuilds and waits

Chapter 7 

Jon - The return of the Queen

In his dreams she always came in the bleak morning, as she had done so long ago, atop her black beast, Snow White furs whipping around her in the wind. But in truth when the Queen returned to him it was at night in the pitch black, the only source of light. the Kings torch and the light of the moon. The light of the sixth moon in truth. Six moons he had waited every moment of the day he was not riding, or building or training he would trek up into the ridge above the settlement he had dubbed Aemon’s Port. 

After the first moon of arriving at the hidden fjord it had been a bleak settlement with a large long house and few huts.   
After the second moon the huts had become houses, and a proper port had been installed. After four moons Aemon’s Port had a fully functioning barracks and walls, the large wooden long house had turned into Jon’s residence and place of court. There were farms, training grounds and fishing boats. Jon used the large open plains a top the cliffs on either side of the fjord to train the small Calvary, he hunted in the forest to the east all the while looking to the sky for a hint, a sign. But for six moons from the wall to Aemon’s port nothing. 

He did not let himself believe that it had not worked, he did not dwell on ideas that Drogon did not truly understand that he indeed had no control over her children. “There’s no time for that” He would mutter so instead he forced himself into work. Ensuring that every perimeter of his small settlement was guarded, ensuring that children were fed, ships were built correctly, under his command all boys and girls were educated and trained together, women were taught the art of war and reinforcement. The freefolk were his people and he was their King, a King waiting patiently for his Queen in a settlement which could be mistaken for the first King’s Landing that Aegon the conquered had raised. Now the sixth Aegon was doing just the same, building a Dynasty.

His court and council consisted of Tormund, a Thenn called Kari, and a black brother Edwin who was the natural son of a lesser Lord in the Westerlands. The remaining black brothers had remained at castle black vowing to him that they would seal the gate and send a rider north anytime a southern lord or monarch come looking. Freida, Tormund’s wife had taken the role of ensuring that the King ate and functioned like a usual man, despite his “bouts of broodiness, anger and downright unpleasantness” she had said frustratingly one evening. The wildling woman had also huffed after Jon’s beard had grown well past his collar and his hair had become an unruly matted mess.   
“You May be King of the wildlings, but it doesn’t mean you need to look like us. You’re a pretty boy your grace but you’re starting to look like your mad grand-papa”  
Jon had grumbled while she had soaked him in freezing water and snipped away until he resembled his former self. She had stood back and admired her work and then scowled and turned to his hand. “He still looks like a bloody crow”  
Tormund had huffed “Then sew him some bloody clothes Freida, but we don’t have the fancy silks that those fancy southern shits wear”  
Freida had only raised an eyebrow “He’s a Dragon King Tormund, have you ever seen a dragon wear fucking fancy silk?”

Sure enough Freida had him dressed in black leather jerkins rimmed with furs dyed blood red. His breast plates were layered in hardened charcoal leathers and lined with the dragon glass the freefolk had coveted and embossed with the three headed dragon. Every freefolk hut now flew the Targaryen sigil from their windows. Jon had no qualms with this, the further he could get away from his Stark heritage the easier it made him plan vengeance, the only reminder being Ghost but even the direwolf was a memory of his false Bastardy. The white wolf. Only the northern lords had called him that. 

His own people, his real people called him King, the last dragon, uniter of men, the reborn. His cupbearer Maia has taken to shouting them allowed whenever a clansman would come to him with progress on the build and Jon was devastatingly reminded of Missandei of Naarth who had, as proudly as Maia did now, shout her Queens names to inspire fear into her subjects. 

His only companion that night was Ghost. A five league ride from the port to a ridge which allowed him to see potential threat from the west and south. Tacking his destria to a nearby oak he had taken a moment to appreciate the scenery, the horizon lit up by the light of the moon. The real north was truly beautiful, there was simply no denying it and with the dead it had lifted any sinister shadows leaving behind a magnificent frozen landscape.

Beside him Ghost stirred his ears pricked up suspiciously. Jon paused a sudden energy forcing through his veins as hot as fire. His heart beat like a drum as he stared up into the inky black, his eyes squinting trying to make out the specific shadow he knew that would be there.

Drogon.

He was not alone, Jon could feel it, the surge of power, the beat of wings, not spanning quite as far as his brother’s but faster more controlled. 

Rhaegal.

It must have been a sight, he reflected later, the dragon king standing in the gathering wind, his furs whipping around him as he stared up at the last two dragons in the world made to land. It was power Jon had rarely felt and his heart soared as he knew who sat atop the black beast. Tears pricked at Jon’s eyes as he braced himself.

Rhaegal landed first his great scaled head pushing close the molten eyes staring st him through the darkness. Jon reached out a trembling gloved hand.

Thank you. He thought as Rhaegal purred his approval. His head moved to follow as his brother landed but Jon could sense discomfort. 

“What is it?” Jon muttered as Drogon lowered his shoulder slower than usual to allow his mother to dismount.

She was as beautiful as he remembered, her silvery hair tied back from her face in a long braid. But there was something wrong. Pain was clear across her face, her violet eyes brimmed with tears and as soon as her feet reached the hard packed icy ground she bent double. Pulling himself together Jon leapt forward hands outstretched reaching for her as she braved against him.  
“Daenerys what’s-“

A silver blade pulled up against his throat and Jon recognised it to be the one he had plunged in her. His heart shattered and the grief he had suppressed for so long re surfaced. Tears flew thick and fast down his cheeks as he reached for the fastenings on his gorget. He let it fall to the floor as he pulled apart jerkin and wooden shirt beneath exposing his chest to the freezing air.

“Do it” he muttered “I deserve it”

Her eyes searched his face, hurt and betrayal clear across her face. She looked down to his chest at the scar which peaked out just under the ties of his shirt and slowly shook her head flipping the dagger swiftly in her hand and sheathing it at her hip. 

“I can’t, I....Argh” Dany groaned and Jon reached for her again.

“Daenerys please what is wrong are you hurt?”

She shook her head and looked down to her feet. Until Jon realised that that was impossible as Daenerys could not see her feet, for her swollen stomach obliterated her view.

His hand moved from her shoulder to her stomach, a lump rising in his throat and for the first time in what had seemed to be years he smiled. “A...a baby?”

She nodded a brief spell of happiness crossing her features.

“My....” Jon stopped himself from hoping but Daenerys was nodded.

“Our baby”. Her voice was quiet, her small hand moving to cover his. “ I would have come sooner but...well Rhaegal was in no state to fly and I didn’t -“

“Didn’t know whether you could ever lay eyes on me again” Jon whispered shamefully.

“Yes something like that. But I couldn’t stay away not when I knew, when they told me what you had done, what you had given up, not when I knew you could be the only man who could father my child, who could love her and me over anything else”

Jon’s heart dropped “Her? You know it will be a girl?”

She nodded fervently and then winced. “Yes” She gasped in pain “and she’s coming”

Jon had her up into his arms within seconds, walking briskly back towards the tree line towards his horse. He rode with her between his legs. One hand on the reins the other gripping her tightly as she leaned back and groaned in pain. He soothes her panting with words of comfort. “We’re almost there” He whispered as he rode quickly through the western gate skidding to a halt before the court room. He dismounted quickly and pulled Dany back into his arms savouring the feeling of her body, warm and beating and alive.

There was commotion inside, Tormund was guffawing from his chair at a group of wildlings. When Jon kicked open the door the hall fell silent and all turned to see their king.

“Get me Freida and Helga and any other woman who has ever delivered a baby” Jon shouted as he carried Dany over the threshold.

Tormund gaped at the dragon queen nestled against his chest. “Is that...are you fucking-“

“Don’t ask fucking questions and do your fucking job. Get your wife here. Now” Jon barked barging past them into his rooms. He didn’t bother to check if Tormund had moved, he knew that he was already out the door.

He set Daenerys down on the bed and knelt before her. “What can I do?” He asked desperately. “Milk of the poppy, we have some, to ease your pain”

Dany smiled reaching a hand to his face “no I want to feel this Jon. I will not miss a moment”

“Is this a dream?” Jon asked as tears once again fell down his face but he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. “You’re here and your baby, our baby will be here soon”

Her lips pressed hard against his blistered ones . She pulled back with a grunt of pain “no definitely not a dream Jon Snow”

The door burst open and Freida came across the threshold three women in tow all carrying towels. She surveyed the scene quickly and moved quickly over to Dany her fingers moving to remove the dark red furs that wrapped around her. “Your first babe to be birthed?”

Dany nodded “I lost my first boy early”

Freida nodded “we oft do, well it ain’t gone get easier from here but get these off you’ll be more comfortable. Your grace!” Freida turned to him but Jon held up a hand.

“My lady you will not send me away, and if you think that you can -“

“You’ll slit my throat aye i know, but we do need water and you are the strongest, so go quickly before your pretty baby is born”

Jon stood quickly taking the bucket Helga was offering him and moved to leave the room.

“Jon?” Dany called as she stood in a simple shift.

He turned and she beamed “it’s good to see you, thank you...for everything and forgive me for-“

“There is nothing to forgive your grace, and aye it’s good to see you too”

“Enough bullshit you can fuck later but first this baby is coming out”

And with that Jon left his rooms, feeling lighter than he had done in his whole life.


	8. Daenerys - The princess that was promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys gives birth

Chapter 8

The princess that was promised

Daenerys 

The wildling woman set to work removing the layers of robes she was wearing until she stood shivering in a linen shift.

“Lie down” she said helping her to what Dany could assume was Jon’s bed. “Legs apart”

Dany frowned “what are you going to do?”

Freida laughed “I’m going to see what your baby is doing, before your man returns and chops off my hands for touching you”

“Jon would never-“

“You really haven’t had a baby before have you” Freida sighed and before Dany could say anything her hand was inside her and Dany yelped uncomfortably. The woman gave a grunt of approval and stepped away.

“You’ve got a while to go, when did the pain first start?”

“About two hours ago” Dany winced as she felt her muscles spasm painfully.

“Makes sense, have you eaten anything?”

Dany shook her head, she had not eaten in the day it had taken her to fly from Volantis. The woman swore under her breath and clicked her fingers at her companions who quickly disappeared from the room. 

“You have only just started labour” Freida explained. “Your womb is still small” she held up her index finger. “It needs to be bigger for the baby to come”

Dany frowned “how much bigger”

Freida formed a fist and Dany felt herself pale, the wildling woman laughed softly and reached for her hand. “You need not be scared your grace-“

“My mother died in childbirth, this ones grandmother died in childbirth birthing the King. We do not have a good history of women surviving this”

“You will survive this” Freida growled.

“How do you know?” Daenerys whispered a lump forming in her throat.

“Because I’m not losing my head”

The door opened and Jon walked in carrying a large pale of water and Dany saw the giant direwolf just behind him curling to the floor in the doorway. 

“About time” Freida growled, rising from the bed helping Jon pour the water into an iron pot. “You want to be in here, you make yourself useful. You keep that water heated and that fire going. It’s going to get hot in here my King, best remove some of those pretty layers I had made for you”.

In the light of the cabin Dany could see that Jon had indeed donned new clothing. No longer was he in the blue and brown leathers and furs of House Stark. His hair was slightly shorter left loose. He wore black leather armour inlaid with blood red seams, the fur that wrapped neatly around his shoulder matched the black leather the belt which held them set with scales like her dragons. She saw the three headed dragon embossed on his chest and could not help to feel some pride. He looked like a true Targaryen warrior king. 

He removed each layer quickly until he was left in breeches and shirt. Freida seemed to kid in approval. “It’s going to be a bit of a wait so I suggest you get comfortable and warm, your grace. I will be back within the hour”

Jon frowned “My lady what if-“

“Nothing will happen in that time your grace, I must find a wet nurse for the Queen”

Before either of them could protest she was gone. Jon put another log on the fire his back turned to her. Dany closed her eyes as another wave of pain surged through her determined to not rely on him to soothe her but it was too late, she winced, eyes scrunched and hands gripping the shift which covered her stomach. She was in his arms again, one warm calloused hand cupping her face holding her against his chest.  
“I’m here” he muttered. “Just breath”

In that moment she wanted to kiss him and stab him and hold him and beat him bloody, all the anger and frustration that had been pent up for 6 months released in a cry of pain. .

“I want to hate you” She muttered venom building in voice. “ I want to make you hurt, to feel the pain that I felt, the loneliness, the betrayal.” The tears fell freely into his hand and Dany felt tears of his own dropping onto her hair. “But how could I? It is a constant internal battle. I love you more than I have loved anything else, more than the iron throne or armies of power, and now here I am in a hut in the north about to bring your child, our daughter into this horrible world and all I can think is you gave me that. The only man to, before anything, see through my fears and my limitations, you stood by me until the end until...”

“It doesn’t matter” Jon muttered. 

“Of course it matters. You don’t understand, I want to hate you and I want to love you equally. Me hating you is not vengeance it’s not bitterness or spite, it is fear. I know what you are capable of doing to protect innocent people and it scares me. We will never be able to rule together unless we love and fear each other equally. You will never be able to justify what I did to Kings Landing-“

“It wasn’t you” He began 

“It doesn’t matter whether it was me or not “ She interrupted silencing him with a determined look. “You knew what I would do and you hated me for it. I need part of you to always hate me for it.” She looked up into his dark eyes searching desperately for finality and then slowly it appeared. A steely glare that cut through her bones into her soul. She reached and clasped his face in one hand. “There is a lot to talk about, there is a lot to achieve and we need each other. Our daughter will arrive into this world and I need her father, I need the man who loves me without question who will love her beyond that, but I also need this.” She brought his jaw down trying to make him see. “I need this man, the greatest swordsman the world has ever seen, the most ruthless killer, the man who has been betrayed and abandoned, lied to his whole life and betrayed by the Queen he swore allegiance to. I need the beast that i know is within you. I need the King. I need Aegon Targaryen the sixth of his name. I need fire and blood”

Slowly he nodded, his calloused hand closing easily around her wrist and pulling it off his face. “You shall have him. Now and Always”

The true pain of labour did not come for many hours. Freida has been and gone and been again each time checking for progress. Daenerys bathed and paced and groaned as the pain worsened and did it all again. Frieda had all but commanded Jon to get at least an hour of sleep and he did grudgingly only after Dany had kissed him quickly and whispered “I will need your strength” So he had slept sprawled on his stomach whilst Daenerys had sat in the tub keeping a rhythm of breathing through the pain.

“You should eat some more” Freida muttered holding a cup of water to her lips. “You may think you are all swollen with the child but you are far too small for my liking, skinniness does not do well for good birthing”  
“Forgive me i never received a proper education of birthing nor did I grow up around women”  
“No you grew up around savages and dragons”  
Dany paused giving the wildling a careful look.  
“So you know who I am then”

The woman snorted moving to sit behind her and pulling her hair back to rebraid. “What other silver haired woman would send my King into a frenzy. What other woman would arrive a top a dragon”

“Yet you would help me after knowing what I’ve done, who I have killed”

Her fingers paused in Dany’s hair. “I named that man my King. I named the man that killed my brother and my uncle and many of my cousins at the wall, a King because I know that behind his sword and bloodlust there is a good man who cares. He is not my king because he is the last male heir from a dynasty. He is the King we chose. Why should you be any different? I don’t know what happened down south all I know is that he did his duty and ended your life and returned to us a broken man. Broken, brooding and down right unpleasant but he took one look at us and commanded us to build an army, a people, a kingdom, he is rebuilding a dynasty and a dynasty needs a powerful Queen. A woman who can do all those womanly things that we must but one who can also lead an army. The greatest army the world has ever seen. We are a people much like your Dothraki savages. We respect power and strength and we fear it and right now that is you. Daenerys Stormborn.”

It was like a match that lit the flame, suddenly pain beyond pain she had ever felt wracked through her.   
“Here we go up out the tub, it’s time for this babe to arrive”

Jon awoke with a fright, hair wild, eyes wide but he made no protestations as Freida all but threw him from the bed and shouted something in a language she did not recognise. Her three companions all came rushing in and Dany did all she could to hush her cries biting down on her lips until she drew blood.  
“Hey!” A wildling woman shouted at her wiping her brow. “None of that if you must scream, scream loud, you are bringing a child into the world not rutting like child trying to not get caught.”  
So she screamed, loud animalistic screams, her vision blurring as the pain took charge. Movement happened around her, commands were shouted as her legs were pushed back against her, she barely registered Jon brought her back into his chest, wrapping her arms around his legs and whispering words of encouragement which she did not hear. Every essence of her being was concentrated in the pressure between her hips. She did not care about the wars that had been or that were to come, she cared not of her hopes and dreams, her ancestors and their dynasty, in that moment she simply did not care. Pain was her focus, pain her relief, the pressure seemed to be splitting her in half, sweat and tears mixing across her face her screams had turned to cries and then to sobs as a babes wailing filled the room.

Dany let her head flop back against Jon chest as her arms grew limp with relief. His lips were on her temple tears rolling onto her bare shoulder.   
“Give me my baby” she whispered weakly and Brought the little thing into her chest, ignoring the blood and gore which still covered her pink skin. As soon as she was in her arms the wails stopped and a small fist reached up closing around a strand of loose hair. Dany was smiling uncontrollably, tears flowing freely leaving steaks of clean flesh on her daughters skin. She heard Jon gasp quietly and his hand snaked round her to rest a single finger on a cheek. 

“Look at what we made” He croaked. “Our beautiful little princess”

The girl nuzzled closer into Dany’s breast, her little legs kicked gently. Dany brushed the goop from the thick thatch of dark hair atop her head. 

“Just like her papa” she whispered. “She will look like you”

Jon rumbled with quiet laughter. “Gods above let’s hope not, no this one will be as strong as her mother and as beautiful. The dragon’s daughter.” He wrapped his arms around the both of them, his head resting on Dany’s shoulder. “She needs a name”

“She does” But Dany’s mind was blank, engrossed in her babe, her first babe, real as the man who sat behind her.

“Rhaella?”

Dany frowned “for my mother? No. She was conceived in the North. She was born in the real North. This one is as much wolf as her papa.”

The name came to her easily. “She will be Lyanna, for the woman who united her granddaughters blood, for the woman who was strong and willing, who would not be slighted by pompous lords. She will be Lyanna, for the daughter of the north and mother of the greatest King this world will ever see”.

If Dany could see Jon she would see the way his face broke, the way his eyes brimmed with yet more tears and a shaky smile spread across his face.

“Aye, Lyanna she is then, of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and Aemon’s Port. Daughter of the last Dragons.”


	9. Arya - In the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds what she has been looking for and it is kit what she expected.

Chapter 9 - In the beginning

Arya

Arya awoke in the largest bed she had ever lay in. Her lungs were burning from the sea water, her head spinning. Slowly she looked down her body. Someone had dressed her in a simple shift and bandaged her right arm in a sling. Grey light poured into the room from two wide windows set at the corners of the room. Memories started to fill her head. The storm, the ship, the knife and then those eyes. Hard and foreboding. Quietly she slipped from the bed and stepped towards the window. It appeared that whatever building or castle she was in it was sent into a mountain or cliff of some sort. From her window she looked out onto the grey misty ocean, the jungle below and the black sanded beaches. Oh gods Arya she thought to herself in her mothers voice. Where are you now ?

The door opened behind her and one man and two women walked in all dressed in similar dark emerald and onyx robes. Arya turned her eyes searching for any of her possessions. When she found nothing she drew herself up “Who are you? Where am I?”

The man stepped forward. He was not tall nor was he small. Neither broad nor skinny. His skin was the colour of burnt copper, his eyes just as dark. The robes he wore exposed a peculiar bird which had been seemingly drawn in ink on the entire front of his neck.   
“I am Rey advisor to the Empress Santulana, you are Arya of House Stark, Princess of the north, daughter to wolves and cousins to dragons. You will dress now, the Empress required your presence”.

Arya gaped “How do you know this? Where am I?”

“You dress and the empress will explain” he clicked his fingers and the women came forward arms filled with garments. Arya chewed her lip and relented allowing them to remove her shift.

They unwrapped the sling and stripped her from her slip. They bathed her in warm water heavy with new floral aromas. They untangled her hair scrubbing oil into the ends. They spread strange ointment on her face whilst digging out dirt and blood from her nails. Her skin was buffed and a sharp blade was taken to her legs and armpits to remove the hair. Once dried the women oiled her skin and Wrapped a linen bandage around the gash in her arm.Another scar she thought, soon I shall look like Jon. 

They dressed her silently in a dark green robe and before she could protest wrapped a leather corset about her waist. They pulled her hair into something that Sansa would usually wear. She turned to the gilded mirror and took in her reflection. Arya had never seen herself look like this before. Like a lady. Her figure accentuated, her skin bright and clear, her hair longer than she had ever seen it, sleek and shining. Even the war scars looked dainty. She sighed. That’s not me.

The halls she were led down were seemingly bare, all lined with black marble, a narrow rectangular hole at intervals which allowed streaks of grey light to stipe the floor. The man named Rey and his companions were all silent as they walked and Arya did her best to stay calm, to take in every step, every corner, every turn she made. After what seemed like hours they reached a set of double doors, ornately carves and like everything else fitted with onyx marble and dark emeralds. They seemed to open on their own accord and Arya was taken across the threshold.

It was the largest throne room she had ever seen, the throne room of the red keep paling in comparison. Set into the floor in the centre of the hall was a large circular pool filled with clear jade water. Four sets of steps surrounded the pool, the tallest set directly in front of them which led up to a dais. A woman dressed in long dark robes sat atop a marble slab. Her skin was a dark copper, her hair jet black pinned elaborately around a silver crown set with an emerald the size of a quails egg. Her hands and wrists were bejewelled in coiling bracelets and chains and about her waist like Arya she wore a leather corset and nestled on her right hip a sword.

Rey descended the steps quickly turning abruptly at the foot of the deus. “You stand in the presence of Santulana, Empress of Centros, protector of the Temple of Endozi, slayer of lies.”  
Arya stood at the rim of the pool and looked up at the Empress as she rose and descended her arms help out at her sides.   
“Thank you Reyanu. It is an honour to have you here Arya of House Stark. I hope my people have given you everything you have required”  
“How do you know my name? How do you know who I am?” Arya asked as the Empress drew level with her.

“I have watched you for a long time, you have had quite the journey. A second daughter of a noble Lord of Westeros, then a daughter of a traitor, a princess to her brothers crown, an enemies cupbearer, a hostage to a turn cloak, an apprentice of death, an assassin in the night, the hero of winterfell. There had much you have achieved in your life. So much more to do. So much I will teach you.”

Arya blinked a string sense of forboding overwhelming her, her head was suddenly heavy, her bones aches and she wanted nothing more than to leave this strange temple. 

Pulling herself together she put on a diplomatic face. “Thank you Empress for your hospitality, for dragging me from the sea and for these beautiful clothes, but I think I would like to leave now. You are correct I have learnt a lot over the years, I am tired of fighting the war is over I only wish to explore this land and then move on. If you could kindly show me to my ship I will not impose on your kindness any longer”

The Empress smiled strangely. “Princess you do not have a ship”

Arya’s stomach dropped. “I was caught in a storm, my ship must have washed ashore”

“Yes you were caught in a storm but only you washed ashore, your remnants of your ship washed up on the iron Islands 2 weeks ago. There were no survivors”

Arya blinked “what? I have been at sea for six moons, where am I?”

Instead of answering she took Arya’s elbow and drew her to the pool. From a pocket she unveiled a vile. Uncorking the Crystal she poured a strange navy oil into the pool. Immediately it began to disperse into a watery map which rose to form a perfect sphere.

“What is west of Westeros?” She asked flicking her finger at the orb like a page in a book. It spun and stilled at a thin inky mass as thin and jagged as lightning. “Centros” She span the map again halting on Essos. “What is east of Essos?” The map spun once again. “Centros”

Arya gaped at the inky swirls. “How is it that no man has discovered you here?”

The Empress laughed and like shattering glass the orb collapsed back into the pool. “Oh they have, lions and krakens and dragons and even apples have made their way to our shores, but they have never lasted long. They have either lost their mind to the point of no return or else never awoke from their sleep”

Faces appeared in the pool, unknown to Arya but recognisable in looks all the same, brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes. “Why did that happen? “

“For want of a better word, my brother, feared what they should learn upon my shores-“

“Your brother?”

The Empress smiled sadly, but there was venom in her eyes as she said “yes, he rules Westeros now, you elected him as your King”

Arya frowned blinking rapidly. Was this woman mad? “No, my little brother was elected King, Brandon of House Stark. My brother not yours.”

“Are you sure of that Arya Stark? You truly believe that a boy with a broken spine and no use of his legs went beyond the wall, was touched by death itself and lived and returned?” She shook her head. 

“Yes” Arya almost shouted cringing at the way her voice echoed across the room. “He did those things and became the three eyed raven”

“Or” The empress whispered quietly her fingers swirling in the pool “The three eyed raven became your brother. Have you ever considered that to be a possibility?”

When Arya stared at her blankly the Empress continued. “There is only one god, and his name is-“

“Death” Arya whispered bitterly.

“Correct. Because that is all God is, death. Delivering the final mercy this world has to offer. You need only speak to your cousin and he would tell you. There is nothing after this life, only death. Having died before, your cousin Aegon Targaryen does not fear it. He is the only man in the this world who does not fear death.” She paused her palms moving over the surface of the water drawing up three shapeless figures like a puppeteer would draw up his strings. “In the beginning there were three of us, all created in our fathers eye, to represent all aspects of himself.

“Kinvara, the priestess of Light, made from the fire of life.” One shapeless figure formed into the figure of a woman growing bright red.   
“Niyutrana, the Lord of Darkness, made from the ice of death.” A tall hulking figure glowed black as smoke.   
“And finally Santulana, Empress of Balance. Made from the waters of peace. The three of us lived harmoniously bringing life with fire, moving them through the years with the waters of peace and then comforting as they drew closer to the darkness, to the end. That is where his power roots itself. In the minds a scared beings, he would enter their minds see what they see and make them unafraid, but then the creatures of the world started cheating death, sacrificing themselves to fire and to water and they worshipped my sister and I. 

Niyutrana grew bitter and jealous, he spread this hopelessness into their minds earlier in their lives creating hate and deceit, the lust for power and betrayal. It was chaos, these mindless slaves our brother had created killing, pillaging raping, all at his command. His power grew and grew and the world became a dark place, our once pleasant land, bloodstained and burned. So we stepped in. We destroyed our brother, relieving himself of human form, we buried his power, the weirwoods were there to contain his power and we split the land we had taken so long to nurture. Thus Westeros, Essos and Centros were born, and for thousands of years we were safe. My sister and I took on our brother’s duties with death and for some time there was peace once more.

Until the age of heroes, that is what your people called it.” The empress laughed quietly. “There were no heroes there. Niyutrana‘ seeds of power grew in their minds, for he had split his power beneath the earth and as soon as the first men started destroying the old gods he latched onto their darkest thoughts, tempting them forcing them to free him from his imprisonment. Father had to come this time, my people summoned him, summoned him to take a human form, can you guess which form he took?”

Arya bit her lip, this information seemed altogether too much, too godly, too magical but then... she had seen the dead walk, had ran with her wolf, had become no one. She tried to recall her history, the stories her father and old nan had told her as a child. Of dead spiders and walls and the old gods and sacrifices, but she soon realised that she did not need her childhood memories, she only needed one, of cold dead blue eyes. “There is only one god” she whispered. “And his name is death.....the night king.” Vomit welled in her stomach. “I destroyed him. I destroyed your father, your god, I destroyed him in the godswood.” She spat furiously. “He raised the dead, you talk of mindless slaves but what of the mindless soldiers that crawled over my home, that tore men women and children limb from limb, how is that any better? It was terrible”  
“Sometimes fathers must to terrible things for their children. And Kings must make sacrifices for his subjects and he did just that, containing our brother once again in a cave hidden from the world. Your ancestors built a wall thinking it was keeping the night King away but in fact it was to protect them from my brother.”

“It worked” Arya muttered. “For a time”

“Yes for a time, you know this Arya Stark, you know that nothing lasts. Peace, War, Hate, Love. They never last, my brother lured only two to that cave and both died, half a dragon, and a crippled little boy. He gave them the site he had and taught them how to use it, gained their trust and when the time came he killed them and took their bodies. The children of forest did well to contain blood raven, he brought about the near extinction of the greatest house of the seven kingdoms all but a small boy and two babes. Brandon Stark brought death upon the seven kingdom, but more than that. He let men, women and children die for him. The greatest army in the world fell for him and he rewarded them with more death and betrayal, allowing a millions innocents to burn-“

“No” Arya interrupted. “He did not do that. Daenerys Targaryen did that. I was there I saw her on that beast. She burnt children I saw them turn to ash. She did that and then stood before us all and told us that they had been liberated, like a mad woman”

“You are blinded by the prejudice that has infiltrated your mind. Think, Arya Stark. My brother enters the seven kingdoms under the guise of a crippled son of one of the most honourable lords in half a century. He has one objective. Gain the power he had had near five millennia’s before. In Westeros’ society what would be the fastest and surest way to do that? Become their king, but now there is a problem. A long line of succession finalising in two potential candidates for the throne stand in his way. One of them not the rightful heir, but has played the game far longer than her nephew who is the rightful heir but has passed any position of power off as soon as he has gained it. Neither of them know the truth but together they are more powerful than any other rule Westeros has seen. He needs them gone, out of the way so the people who had bent their knees could never have an excuse to again. What does he do?”

Arya paused going over the last two years. She had never seen her brother happier than when he was with Daenerys Targaryen. She had know he had truly loved her but there had always been doubt in her mind. Had that been Bran? That weight, that confusion?“You reveal the truth, you drive a wedge between them, by turning them on each other they cause more destruction pushing them away from power. Ensuring that no one who had ever vowed to follow them would want to take their place”   
The truth was like a slap in the face and she stared uncertainly down at her arm. “He knew I would make it here, he...I...he made me want to kill myself. He made me want to sail west. He made us believe that sending Jon to the wall was good, he....Daenerys...he ....did he make her do that?”

“What do you think Princess? A woman who has lived her life ensuring the safety of innocent people, who has freed slaves, who when the ashen bones of a little girl were dropped st her feet she locked her children up, locked them up in the chains she herself were seeking to break. That woman raze a city? No. She did what the people feared and expected her to do. That was his work his power.”

Arya dropped her face into her hands “What have we done” she whispered to herself. When there was no answer she raised her head. “The whole of Westeros is under his control”

“Only the people who can influence the crowds. The small council, the Queen in the north, the Lord of Storm’s End, the Prince of Dorne-“

“Jon-“ Arya interrupted fear spinning her head into a frenzy.

Santulana smiled “No. my brother can not penetrate Aegon’s mind. My brother is wise, clever than any other but he is also arrogant and lusty with power. He forgets, that in death the mind is free. No Aegon Targaryen has known of his power for quite some time.”

Arya frowned the injustice of what she was saying settling on her shoulders. “Then why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t he tell us?”

“Would you have believed him? Even if you did would the world? No. He has played his role better than any and now he rises above them all. The Lords I’d Westeros will the rue the day they sent their rightful King to the wall.”

“But...” Arya shook her head “what can be done, Jon is only one man. What can he do?”

“He is not alone. My sister has chosen her champions to win the next war and I must choose mine”

“Who? Who will you choose”

“You have trained your body to fight, to run to disguise. You fooled even the god of death. There is a power in you which calls to your ancestors. You will train under my instruction, but this time it will be your mind. You will train your thoughts your dreams, you will learn how to influence others, to protect those you love.”

“How long will it take?” Arya asked feeling like the child that had walked into the house of black and white.

“It will take until you are ready Arya Stark”

“And when I am ready What then?”

“Then you shall reunite with dragons”

“The dragons are dead” Arya whispered. “Daenerys is gone, her beast took her body and has not been seen and whatever dragon blood was in Jon before was gone when he drove the dagger into her heart”

The empress laughed once more, it aggravates Arya as she watched her rise and once again turn to the pool her bejewelled fingers moving slowly over the water. Arya stood cautiously watching the water move in ripples. It spiralled and spiralled until finally Arya could make out a clear figure, and as if she were looking through an iced window she could see her brother, her favourite brother, dressed in his fathers colours. A heavy steel crown sat upon his dark curls and a crowd roared silently as he stood before a Targaryen banner in a hall she did not know. Before him knelt a woman, her silvery hair elaborately braided, her robes and fine as Jon’s. Jon raised a silver crown and placed it upon her head. She stood, as alive as she had done in the ruins of the red keep and moved to stand beside Jon. With their hands entwined they raised their arms to the sky, a sky that was filled with not one but two dragons. Arya stumbles back gasping, sweat sheeting against her forehead.  
“I told you my sister has chosen her champions. Fire and Blood. From the flames they were reborn to remake the world, and they know who the enemy is. They will raise an army bigger than death itself, and you shall help them do it when the time is right.”  
From her pocket she drew a silver shell, dipping it into the water she held it out for Arya.

“Drink Arya Stark, your training begins today”

Arya took the shell but hesitated, distracted momentarily by the lights dancing on the pool, they reminded her so much of another place, a horrible place. 

As if she could read her mind the Empress gestured at the shell smirking “this is not the house of black and white, princess, you are safe here, drink and you shall see”

So she did , despite every fibre of her being screaming at her not to, she lifted the strange green water to her mouth and gulped it down. She drank until the shell was dry and then looked up at the Empress and met those hard dark eyes. 

Then the pain began.


	10. Chapter 10 - Gendry - Make your choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years later and the Lord of Storm’s End is struggling to maintain a firm grip on The Stormlands against an invasion from the south

Chapter 10

Gendry - Make your choice

3 years Later

It had been three years. Gendry has ruled the storm lands for three years. It had been far from easy. His arrival at Storm’s End had been received well, His castalan had practically dropped to his knees in gratitude when Gendry had handed him the sealed scroll bearing the Targaryen sigil proclaiming him Lord of the Stormlands Gendry of House Baratheon.

“The only good she did in this world” His maester has muttered once. Gendry had grown wroth at this, replying snappily that Daenerys Targaryen had sacrificed everything for the North. They had done nothing to repay her for that sacrifice, nothing apart from a dagger in the heart. Not that he had blamed Jon for what he did. Daenerys had shown her true colours in King’s Landing and despite the bitter taste in his mouth when he sat in his hall as Lord, he would never forget where he came from and who put him there.

They had educated him, Maester Terrance and the rest, taught him to read, how to write, even sent him to the yard to train with the master at arms. But Ser Errol had only laughed “He is a Baratheon, he need not learn how to fight, teach him how to use a fork or how to dance”

Gendry had indeed learned how to use and fork and how to dance. Shortly after arriving at Storm’s End a seamstress had made him stand on a stool for hours whilst she measured silks, leathers and velvets to make into clothes. He had not cared much for such finery, he was more interested in ensuring that his people, who ,for so long had been forgotten, were fed and watered, that houses were rebuilt and that forge fires were stoked. He commanded that every night a member of his household or beyond would sup next to him. He would ask them to tell him stories of the land, of their lives. For this he had been praised.

“Eddard Stark did the exact same my Lord” Maester Terrance told him during a lineage lesson. “He had the love of his people for it”.

That’s all Gendry wanted, he knew what it was to be dirt under noble’s boots. He didn’t want his people to feel that. Ever. At the break of the second year, the nobles has come in flocks, their daughters in tow. He had politely declined each and every one of their proposals. Had gnashes his teeth violently as every lick spittle stood before him boasting of their daughters beauty of their fertility. Word had spread of course across the kingdoms. 

The storm Lord liked to bigger men like his uncle Renley. 

Gendry Baratheon was riddled with the clap having grown up in a whorehouse and would not deflower the noble daughters of the storm lands. 

“No” Ser Podrick Payne has muttered when he accompanied the King on a progress. “The storm Lord is waiting for his princess to return. That is the only bride he would have, for no woman could match Arya Stark’s beauty, nor the iron underneath”

Gendry has nodded at him subtly thanking his friend for quelling the more disturbing rumours with a single phrase. But Arya Stark had not been seen or heard of in three years. The only news had been that remnants of a ship and a Stark sigil had washed up on Bear Island. Gendry refuses to believe she was dead. She had destroyed death itself, she would not be bested by the sea. No Arya Stark was alive and well and most probably leading a pack of wild savages through unknown lands, needle on her hip, a smile on her mouth, her grey eyes alight with excitement.

He had not been able to dwell on Arya Stark for many moons however. The reports of unrest and rebellion reached him and before long he was organising full scale defences against the Dornish. Arianne Martel had overthrown her cousin and had claimed Sunspear and Dorne, furious over the decision to elect Brandon Stark as King, even more furious that the North has been granted independence. 

Gendry had defended well, evacuating the towns, castles and villages to the south, replacing them with the armies he had and beating them back. But it had been 8 moons of defence and Gendry was growing weary. Then the Dornish had taken Lords Taarth and Lord Estermont as prisoner and Gendry had snapped. He had sent word to Ser Brienne announcing that her father had been imprisoned and for her to beg the King on his behalf to let him lead a parlay. In response the King had sent Davos and Ser Podrick to accompany him to the meeting.

Arianne Martell had agreed to the meeting, and Gendry had summoned her to the ruins of Summerhall. If I must declare war, then let it be in the ruins of my ancestors palace. He had thought, let them remember that I too have blood of the dragon, and my fury could match that of Daenerys Targaryen should I let it.

He had taken the fury that bubbled beneath the surface out on his horse. Poor horse what did the sod ever do to you? A voice remarkably like Aryas whispered as he rode faster and harder for every league he gained on Summerhall. His retenue barely matched his pace, even Podrick who was a good rider fell short by half a horse. Gendry pulled up as they approached, surveying the now moss covered ruins. Wildfire. His great great grandfather, the good Aegon had set it alight believing that it would birth dragons. Damned dragons. Had the world ever been good with them? 

Gendry knew his answer. Stupid bull Arya Stark whispered fondly.

Arianne Martell brought with her one hundred soldiers, a maester and her prisoners. As soon as they were brought into the tent Gendry moved towards his Lords. They looked tired, a bit malnourished but otherwise of good health.

“My Lords” Gendry began. “Words can not explain how sorry I am that this happened to you both”

Lord Taarth held up a shackles hand “There is no need my Lord, we have been treated well”

Gendry turned to the princess of Dorne, who was clad in leathers, her dark hair braided in a long braid. She was attractive, Gendry could not deny, but her eyes were caramel, not granate, her hair was the wrong shade of brown, there was no wildness about her. No iron beneath. 

“What is the meaning of this My Lady, why would you wish us harm, what have we done to deserve this nonsense?” He demanded.

The woman smirked “oh my they have taught you how to speak with a Lord’s tongue, but nothing could mask the sound of a flea bottom accent”

Gendry snorted folding his arms across his chest. “You can mock me all you want Princess, I do not care for it”

She smirked and took her seat. “No I didn’t think you would.” She crossed her legs and spread her arms “So Lord Baratheon, you have summoned me to your ancestors ruins, now speak of what you will.”

“I have already asked you. Explain your menace towards my lands”

“I am descended from Nymeria herself you know. Our history is as long as the Starks, for many years we have had respect for our frozen friends and their traditions. But we did not bow to wolves.”

She rode and spun underneath the canopy. “No it was the dragon we bowed to. The dragons brought us into the realm because we understood and respected their power. Even when their dragons died we stood by the Targaryens because they were the Kings we chose.”

“The Targaryens are gone” Gendry growled. 

Arianne conceded “yes, the only remaining Targaryen....banished to a wasteland for what was it?”

“His safety” Gendry muttered. He still felt the injustice of that decision. 

“Yes the man who killed his Queen ordered to the wall and the Lannister who gave the command Hand of the King” she chuckled. “History has a funny way of showing itself in the present don’t you find my Lord-“

“We are not here to talk history” Gendry snapped, impatience boiling his blood. 

“Oh but we are, you see it was the Targaryens who united this realm, all seven Kingdoms and since their fall not one King or Queen has managed to keep them united. We in Dorne quite understand why, the Kings and Queen who followed the Targaryens just didn’t have same charisma, they didn’t inspire the same amount of fear. Do not get me wrong, My Lord I am not saying that they did not have fear or love but they were mere men. Compare Brandon Stark to his cousin Aegon. Brandon Stark cannot wield a sword like Aegon, no and by all instances Aegon Targaryen was stabbed in the heart and then rose again. Now that’s a man who inspired fear. Compare The Queen in the North with Daenerys Targaryen. Sansa Stark did not bring magic back into the world, she did not abolish slavery, she did not hold off her war with Cersei Lannister to fight the army of the dead, did not lead the largest khalasar across the poison sea. Had things gone differently I would have been proud to serve Queen Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen.” She paused and Gendry noticed tears welling in their eyes. “But madness took them both, they were betrayed and pushed apart by the Starks, the Lannister’s and all of the lickspittle lords between them”.

Gendry sighed, the thoughts of what could have been often reeled in his mind but he would not share those now. “So what do you want?” 

“Independence. Like it was of old. I believe given the motive every kingdom in Westeros would want the same. The North already has it” She scowled “How convenient. Dorne shall have it by the end of the year. Targaryens no long rule us, so we must rule ourselves”

Gendry whistled a chuckle rising in his chest. “You can ask but I doubt the King would grant-“

“I am not asking” Arianna growled taking a step forward. “I will give you a choice Lord Baratheon. Declare yourself independent and fight with me to overthrow this crippled wolf King, declare yourself the Storm King ans concern yourself with your own laws, your own people, your own life and we shall live as harmonious neighbours. I will even offer trade deals , shipping routes anything that would help better your economy. , we will set up an effective border and I shall withdraw my armies. Or defend your crippled King and I will send more men, I will poison your waters and burn your villages, I will murder your people and take your head, you have no heirs as of yet so I needn’t worry myself about the murder of children” she smiled sweetly. “And you have no wife, that is widely known, so there will be no grieving widow to console” she paused her eyes narrowing and Gendry cursed himself for let his emotions slide so easily across his face. “Or Mayhaps there is one who would mourn you, but I think you and I both know that the princess of Winterfell has seen enough death to not worry herself over tears for the death of the man who took her Maidenhead. However by all accounts I heard that she lost her mind in a storm and now her body rots at the bottom of the sunset sea.”

Gendry stood, kicking his chair to the ground, his heart thumping angrily in his chest. “This meeting is over” He bellowed, finding small satisfaction at the dornish woman’s shock and fear momentarily filling her eyes. “Withdraw your men, my Lady and return here within the month, I shall give you my answer then in the meantime I do not wish to see or hear of you anywhere north of your damned marshes”

He turned and stormed off, clenching his eyes shut against the tears that were falling and trying to rid himself of the vision of Arya Stark’s dead body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Gendry Baratheon is a bloody good Lord and no one can tell me otherwise, he’s also still very much deeply in love with Arya Stark...thank you for all your wonderful comments!


	11. Daenerys - Blood of my blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys thinks about how her relationship with the King has changed

Chapter 11.

Daenerys - Blood of my blood

He ran slightly ahead of her, his little legs clumsy over dirt track, his arms outstretched, a stick in his right hand. Sor he called it. Like all two year olds his language was simple, missing many syllables, but Dany knew what he meant. It was his sword and for weeks now he had not allowed either of his parents to prize it from his hands. When Jon had tried, the King had received a sharp whack on the head and a defiant “NO, my sor”. So like all tired fathers he had grimaced and left the dirty stick clutched in the boy’s hand, much to the delight of his son.

Despite the birth of their daughter, at first Jon and Daenerys’ relationship had been....difficult, to say the least. The love Daenerys had for Jon had purely stemmed from the fact that he was the father of her child, the only man who had ever given her what she truly wanted. But she had not trusted Jon, the memory of the dagger far too fresh in her mind, her nightmares would often be plagued with betrayal and murder waking her up in tears of fresh grief. She would shrug off his embraces wiping her eyes furiously and would curl up on the small bed upon which Lyanna slept, clutching the girl closer to her chest. Lyanna had given her solace, strength but she feel Jon’s sadness, even his irritation. Dany had not cared. She had simply continued to hold their daughter, rarely allowing her from arms. Without acknowledging the tension between them Jon had called the free-folk to the square, had Freida prepare a coronation gown for her and had a smith forge a crown and in front of the entire freefolk had proclaimed her Queen, resting the crown upon her head, smiling gently with pride and Dany had smiled, her head light with relief as her people cheered her despite the weight of the wrought silver and iron upon weighing upon her skull. But when his arm had encircled her waist and he had pressed his lips to her temple, she had frozen, the memory of cold steel in her heart jolting her out of her openness. Dany had pulled away and had snatched Lyanna to her breast. Throughout the feast she had not looked at Jon, had kept her limbs closed and stiff and had raged internally with Lyanna carefully placed over her heart, a barrier between King and Queen. She had retired early and had fallen asleep fully clothed, Lyanna gurgling happily on her chest, the crown clasped in her small hands.

She had awoken to a cold hard stare. Jon had sat on the wooden stool by the bed, elbows resting on his knees, a dangerous expression upon his face. “You don’t think I notice” Jon had muttered bitterly. “The way you use my daughter as a shield”  
“Our daughter” she whispered.  
Jon ignored her, his eyes darkening “You claim you love me yet you do not trust me”  
Dany had sighed shutting her eyes anger brewing in her chest. “Love and trust are very different things” Dany whispered as she shifted Lyanna and moved to swing her legs off the tiny bed. Jon’s eyes were full of pain but Dany pushed on. “I love you, I have and will always love you but I will never forget what you did, what you were capable of doing to the woman you love”  
Jon sighed, frustration clear. “I did it-“

“To protect me” Dany spat. “Tell me honestly Jon, when you knew what you had to do did you know that I would come back.... for definite”

Jon stared at her, his jaw drawing taught, he reached his hands towards hers and sighed “Daenerys, no..I didn’t know but-“  
Dany jerked her hands away and before she knew it her palm slapped loudly across his face. The sobs wracked at her chest and she did it again harder this time, but Jon growled savagely gripping her painfully by the upper arm and pulling her roughly from their daughters room.  
“A fine sight for Lyanna to see” he growled. “Her parents fist fighting on her floor”  
“You bastard” Dany growled tears streaming down her face. “Don’t fucking touch me” she screeched wrenching herself free of his vice like grip.   
Jon stood back hands raised in the air “What was I supposed to do” he growled. “I knew what I needed to do, I knew it wasn’t really you up there burning the city, but I had to believe that you would come back. Do you know how hard that is, knowing that somehow you just had to trust in a god you don’t believe in and a dragon, a bloody dragon! I had no idea it would work Dany but I had to believe it would even a little bit otherwise I could have never have done it”  
Dany glared at him. “You kissed me, you made believe-“  
“YOU DONT THINK I KNOW THAT, YOU DONT THINK I REMEMBER IT?” Jon exploded, his fist colliding with the wall. “What was I supposed to do Dany run at you sword in hand? Go behind your back and poison your wine? I have loved you since I first set eyes on you and in that moment you were so happy, so sure of yourself. You think I enjoyed it? You think I felt right? Because I didn’t. Nothing about it was right, nothing about it was good. It was dirty and treacherous and wrong. Every time I look at you I see your dead body in my arms. Every time I sleep I can feel what you felt. You don’t think I don’t know what it feels like to have steel go into your heart?”  
Jon sunk to his knees before her his hands fisting in her skirts. “I told you the night you arrived on Drogon to kill me, that I deserved it, I still do, hate me if you must Daenerys, don’t trust me,fine, but don’t use our daughter as shield. I won’t ever do that to you, never again, I swear it on the-“ He swore under his breaths “I don’t believe in any gods, if i did I would swear it”  
He looked around wildly and Daenerys stood there silently , the tears drying quietly on her cheeks. “Jon” She croaked. “How can I believe you?” Her voice was small and she felt like little girl who had stood before her brother as he had told her that he would always protect her. 

Jon stood and moved to the open fire in the iron brazier. Dany gave a small gasp as he closed his fist around the metal.  
He looked up as he pushed it between them. “I don’t think I could withstand a full fire, but this is bearable” He smiled sheepishly and then with almost a sigh of determination he took the very dagger that he had used to kill her from his belt.”when I was young my uncle used to tell me of the first men who would sacrifice blood when they made vows. It was part of the wedding ceremony. The bride and grooms blood spilled upon the sacred weirwoods.” He sighed “But I am not a Stark and I stopped believing in the old gods a long time ago so I’m not going to take you to a tree and swear this to you. Nor do I believe in the seven. As for the Lord of light, well I am still skeptical”

Dany raised an eyebrow “so what do you believe in?”

He brought the dagger to his palm and sliced until blood pooled in his hand. He made a fist and let the blood drip into the flames. “I believe in a woman who stepped into the flames with three stones and emerged with three dragons” His blood hissed in the flames and Daenerys was fixated. “I believe in a woman who liberated thousands of slaves and punished the masters for their crimes. I believe in the woman who took her people across the narrow sea and fought against the army of the dead, unseating death himself from a dragon in the sky. I believe in you Daenerys Targaryen. I believe in Fire and Blood, I will never hurt you, you are the woman I love, the mother of my child, my Queen, blood of my blood. I will be your sword in the darkness, the shield that will guard you, I won’t ever hurt you I swear it with fire and blood.”

The lump in Dany’s throat grew as, yet more tears welled in her eyes. Silently she reached through the flames and pulled the dagger from his grip, her eyes boring into his, the flames reflecting in his grey eyes. Red and black, fire and blood. The blade stung as she swiped it across her own palm, watching curiously as the blood pooled crimson. She grasped his hand over the flames never breaking eye contact. She stood silently staring at the man she was unconditionally in love with and then she knew. She believed him. It was as if a ginormous weight had been pulled from her shoulders and slowly she smiled, ignoring the searing pain in her hand. When they said the words it was if they were in each others minds. Those words thousand of couples had said before, but never like this, their words were meaningless, they were nothing.   
“I am yours” They had whispered. “And you are mine, from this day until the end of my days” and the flames had risen higher as their blood spilled securing their vow.

After, they had wrapped each other’s hand with linen bandages smiling and giggling like children. “I suppose” Dany had muttered. “I must be your wife now”  
Jon raised an eyebrow. “Aye and I must be your husband”  
“Thank goodness for that, here I thought I would be a ruined woman for the rest of my days”  
He pulled her onto his lap. “I don’t know I could still ruin you” He growled into her ear. “If we are truly married then there best be a bedding ceremony My lady”  
Dany giggled “I feel like you bedded me a long time ago my Lord”  
“Aye, on a boat wasn’t it?” He muttered.  
Dany hummed happily at the memory. “Yes, but we’re not on a boat now. A lot has happened since that boat”  
Jon chuckled, his arms wrapping easily around her “if you need a boat Dany I will take you to one we have a few in the port”  
Dany smiled and brushed her lips against his. “I don’t need a boat” she whispered. “I need you”

His hands gripped her hair and deepened the kiss, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip groaning quietly. It had been almost a year since they had coupled and Dany felt it in the urgency in which she stood dragging Jon with her as they grappled at each others clothing. She gasped as his hands fisted at the top of her corset ripping it in two. He pulled away, his forehead resting against hers, his breath fast and shallow, with his finger he trailed from her cheek to her breast.  
“So beautiful” he whispered. “My beautiful wife” his lips trailed across her throat down her collarbone. Dany moaned when he took her nipple into his warm wet mouth, her hand pushing through his unruly hair. He chuckled quietly against her skin but suddenly stopped, he released her and Dany saw him pause his eyes brimming with tears as he took in the jagged scar across her rip cage. He stood abruptly.  
“Dany” he whispered. “Dany i”m So-“  
Dany cut him off with a finger to his lips. Sinking to her knees her fingers deftly pulled at the laces of his breeches, freeing his hardened cock. With one defy stroke she took him in her mouth, pushing him further down her throat. His words were gone as he groaned in relief, his unbandaged hand gripping her head, his hips flexed seeking more depth in her throat. She bobbed in and out moaning as she felt her core pool with anticipation. Opening her eyes she stared up at her husband to see his head dropped back, his jaw taught his eyes shut groans and curses spilling from his mouth. Smirking Dany ran the flat of her tongue up the underside of his cock and swirled over the tip.  
“Fuck Dany, I’m gonna-“  
Dany took him once again abruptly pushing the whole of his length down his throat in rapid succession. Jon swore loudly bucking his hips as his seed shot down her throat. Dany spluttered slightly stilling as she swallowed the hot thick liquid. Dany sat back on her heels a string of cum and saliva stretching between her mouth and Jon’s cock. She looked up grinning. He cupped her face a playful Look crossing his face.   
“What am I going to do with you”  
Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand Dany stared up at him “Anything you want, my King”  
A growl escaped his lips and in a flash of movement she was hauled up on her feet spun around and pushed over the small wooden table.  
“You are still wearing far too many layers Daenerys” he muttered as he peeled off the remnants of her broken corset.  
“Says the man still fully clothed” she mumbled which earned her a sharp smack across her ass.   
“Quiet woman” he growled and Dany giggled. He had always been able to conquer her in the bedroom. It was something she loved and knew Jon took great pleasure in knowing that Dany would give herself entirely to him. With a yank her skirts pooled at her ankles, his rough calloused hands brushing up her thighs.   
“Oh Dany” he moaned as he slipped two fingers into her sopping cunt. “I’ve missed you”  
Dany moaned her heart pounding as he withdrew his finger swirling her clit slowly. Dany dropped her head against the scrubbed wood groaning.  
“So wet” he muttered. Suddenly his fingers disappeared and Dany mewled in frustration.  
“Jon” She panted . “Don’t tease m- oh fuuucckkk”  
His tongue swirled over her clit, his hands tilting her hips towards his face. She could not deny that out of all her lovers Jon was most deft with his tongue. He dipped into her core hands gripping her more firmly and Dany moaned loudly. Jon felt him laugh quietly against her. After a few more swipes of his tongue Dany felt her legs quiver and her navel tighten in pleasure.  
“Jon” she whimpered as her walls clamped around his mouth. She threw her head back as her orgasm rocked through her. He stilled and Dany dropped her head once more feeling sweat bead on her forehead.  
“I forgot how good you were at that” she murmured leaning back into him as he stood. His chest vibrates with laughter. “Is that right? We aim to please your grace. I must admit, I forgot how sweet you tasted.” She turned in his arms.  
“It’s been too long” she whispered.  
“Aye” he conceded, leaning down and capturing her lips, Dany moaned tasting her tartness on her husband’s tongue.  
“Fuck me” Dany whispered hoarsely. “Fuck me now Jon”

It seemed he needed no further instruction picking her up effortlessly he dropped her down onto the bed with a slight bounce. She crawled up to the pillows watching as he kicked off his boots and pushed down his breeches. Jon had always been comely but now in the early morning light, he was truly god like. His chiselers chest lashed with scars, his beard hollowing his cheeks, accentuating his jaw line. His hair tangled and loose. He pushed through it with one hand smirking self consciously as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. His bandaged hand gripped the back of her left knee pushing to the side and back towards her shoulder with ease. His cock proved her entrance, hard and throbbing. Dany sighed in pleasure her eyebrows knitting together her eyes shutting.  
“No” he whispered hoarsely “Look at me Dany”  
Obediently she opened her eyes onto his dark lustful eyes. She gasped as he ploughed into her hard and fast.   
“I love you” She whispered and he smiled.”now and always”  
“Now and Always” he muttered. 

Daeron had been born 9 moons later, with a thatch of silver hair and his fathers solemn grey eyes and now at two years old he was becoming more unruly than his sister. Lyanna was fiercely protective of her little brother even thought there was but a year between them. She called him Dae as at three she could still not pronounce her ‘r’s and Daeron’s little vocabulary comprised of sor, mama, papa, Anna and go, which after some discovery Dany had realised that her little boy meant Ghost. The direwolf was as protective of the children as the dragons, but being smaller, the wolf was able to spend more time with them,  
often sleeping in their rooms and much to Jon’s displeasure had become a pony of sorts to Lyanna.   
“Daeron” Dany called. “Stay on the track”  
The little boy turned grinning sneakily brandishing his stick.   
“Good boy” she called again and beside her Freida chuckled.  
“Such a mamas boy”  
Dany smiled “you think? I think he prefers the King”  
Freida shook her head “no your grace, the princess is her fathers daughter in full but the prince will forever be his mother your grace”  
They continued up to where their husbands were inspecting the infantry. It was small to be sure, building the largest army in the world was taking much longer than anticipated but Dany was glad for the respite. Three years of a fairly peaceful lifestyle, Dany had created her Queens court, ensuring that all the children were educated in literature and numbers from the age of four. She ensured that every woman had the health care they needed, ensured that there were enough healers and midwives. Without war there had certainly been an influx of child births and Dany ensured to visit each and everyone , laughing and smiling pleasantly as the mothers looked up at her sweaty faced proclaiming that they would be called Daenerys or Aegon, even Rhaegar and Lyanna. Freida’s daughters served as Dany’s hand maidens, whilst Maia, Karis’ daughter had maintained her role as cup bearer for the King.   
They reached the top of the rill and stepped out onto the plains that sat above Aemon’s Port. In the distance she could see Drogon and Rhaegal circling the skies. She smiled ruefully at her eldest sons. They had gone through a bout of jealousy when the children had been born but Dany had marched up to them both children on her hips and had all but shouted at them to all get along. Jon had doubled over in fits of laughter when he had heard. 

Across the moor she could spot Jon, Tormund and Kari all standing watching as the infantry worked on attach and defence, forming what Freida called a shield wall.  
Lyanna sat perched on Ghost arms raised as she shouted to the crowd her tiny voice shrill against the wind.  
Daeron took off running. “Anna I got sor!” He shouted and his elder sister turned in her seat.  
She grinned raising her arms again.  
“Dwacarwys” she screamed and Daeron shrieked pointing his stick at her and charging forward. Dany sighed as she trudged through the frosted heather, her wild children were as beastly as their brothers in the sky.  
At the sound of his son Jon turned and scooped the little boy up in his arms swinging him up onto his shoulders.  
“Saved you” he growled and grinned at Daenerys.  
“How goes the training your grace” she asks.  
Jon sighed frustrated “they are no unsullied, but we’re getting there. We just need more men with more skill.”  
Dany chewed her lip. “We’ll get there. We have a strong navy. Mayhaps I should send a raven to Pyke, see if Yara is still loyal to her rightful Queen”  
Jon nodded solemnly. “We can’t rush it, we need one army, we’ll get one, but it will take time”  
Dany crossed her arms. “I was thinking” she mused aloud. “That you might find someone to teach me how to fight”  
All three men turned to her mixed looks of confusion on their faces.  
“You don’t need to learn how to fight” Tormund started “you control the largest weapon we have. We need you on the dragon my Queen”  
Daenerys nodded “yes but our enemy can warg into beasts. I have once fallen from Drogon and was left to defend my life. If not for Jorah Mormont I would be dead”  
Jon worries his bottom lip. “Aye you’re right. Tormund find one of the spear wives and Kari find one of the archers.”  
The hand of the King and master of arms made to protest but Jon drew himself up, a darkness setting across his features. “I will jot have them say that the King refused Daenerys Targaryen a sword when she asked for one”  
They bowed simultaneously trudging away.  
“You could teach me” Dany whispered her arm circling Jon’s waist. “You are the greatest warrior of the seven kingdoms, what better teacher than you?”  
Jon looked down at her a mixture of admiration and apprehension on his face. “You really want me to teach you?”  
Dany nodded vigorously and Jon pressed his lips to her forehead.   
“Your Queen commands it”  
“Then it is done. We start tomorrow”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little smut and a little wedding between two people who just don’t believe in the gods anymore. 
> 
>  
> 
> In case you were wondering Lyanna has Jon’s colour hair and Dany’s eyes although in some lights they are as violet as Rhaella’s. Whereas Daeron has Jon’s curls but they are silver, his eyes are grey.


	12. ARYA -Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya learns what her place will be in the war to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a long time to write, but thank you all for such amazing comments
> 
> This takes place over the three years Arya is on Centros

Chapter 12

Arya - Reality

She asked about her back. “It broke” Arya started over a supper of fish and fruit. “But I can walk”  
The Empress had simply held up one of her many crystal viles as if that was a reasonable answer. Arya had glowered at the strange black liquid.  
“Liquid obsidian” The Empress explained. “Has a great deal of healing properties, it can heal a puncture to a wing, or a slit throat, or even a broken spine. It is a flexible substance when it needs to be, or can be honed into a weapon as strong as Valyrian steel.”  
Arya had tried to question her further but The Empress had risen and left her alone in her room.

Arya understood when later she twisted naked in the looking glass, gasping as she saw a deep red scar starting just below her lungs and dragging down to just above her tail bone. 

“She will teach you how to use obsidian to heal” Rays quiet voice said from the doorway, as her two hand maidens entered the room. Part of Arya wanted to cover herself, but she could see that either Rey was not affected by her nakedness or did not care. “You will begin training tomorrow” 

“I thought I had already begun my training” she protested as a woman moved to unweave her hair from its many complexities.

“Tomorrow” he repeated.

********************************************

“It is not mind control” The Empress spoke calmly as Arya curled on the floor spitting the blood from her mouth.  
“You. Are. Controlling. My. Mind.” Arya panted, her head pounding, the memory of her fathers head rolling onto the steps of Baelor fresh behind her eyes.  
“No” Santulana said her voice harsh. “I am making you relive your memories, pick apart the emotions Arya Stark. Control your impulses of anger and hate.”

Her eyes rolled back once again and Meryn Trant was in front of her his eyes bloody pits.

Revenge, she thought. Revenge, and pleasure. Vengeance for Syrio.

 

***********************************************

 

Sansa was laughing at her, stupid Jeyne Poole by her side. Her dress was ruined, her hair in matted knots and she had fallen in a pile of horse shit.  
“Arya Horseface, face in the horse dung”

Fury rose through her, fury and embarrassment.  
“Control your emotions” Santulana commanded. “I am feeding your fury Arya Stark, your embarrassment, your shame I am feeding it and all you want now is revenge. They pushed you and you want them to feel the way you’re feeling. Control your emotions, push me out”  
Arya stilled, hands unclenching. Clear your mind, she chanted, relax, just relax. Slowly she felt her emotions subsiding as she turned to Santulana, absurdly placed at the door of the stables in Winterfell. “You don’t belong here” she whispered calmly. “You’re not a part of this memory”  
Arya closed her eyes drawing the darkness around her.

Her eyes snapped open, she was on the floor again, her limbs shaking, blood trickling from her ears and nose but she was happy. Happier than she had been in 40 days. She looked up into Santulana’s face and the woman twitched the corner of her mouth.

“Better” she whispered and then her eyes hardened. “Again”

***********************************************

It was gruelling. Day in day out Arya’s mind was pulled apart, her memory’s twisted to what seemed beyond repair. The little sleep she got was interrupted by strange dreams. Of weirwoods black to the core, of bright red eyes and horses made of smoke.

The temple of Endozi was as larger than Winterfell and the Red Keep, it was embedded into the mountain upon which it sat. Her rooms sat on the eastern side of the summit over looking the ocean. There was a certain beauty to it, despite the constant grey grissle. It made her feel at peace and it was her solace, that view, when her mind was being pulled apart. It helped her centre when her lessons were particularly hard.

She stood in the doorway of a ships cabin, a small fire was smouldering in a wood burner and under the covers lay a man, evidently unconscious. At the foot of the bed curled amoungst the furs was a woman weeping quietly. Arya frowned. “This is not my memory” she muttered. Beside her The Empress looked on passively.  
“No, we will not be delving into your memories today. I wish to show you something”  
Arya frowned. “I don’t understand”

“Move closer” she urged and Arya stepped across the threshold. Blinking rapidly she concentrated on who the figures were.

Jon’s lips were blue, his skin paler than Arya had ever seen. The woman was Daenerys, almost child like as she cried into the furs, her small arm wrapped about his legs.

“She has just lost her first dragon” The empress whispered taking a seat on a three legged stool. “Her advisor had urged her to fly home after her mission beyond the wall, but she had refused. She tried to save him but he had stayed behind battling alone against the dead until they pushed him beneath the ice. He returned two days later almost dead on a horse. She has not left his side, it’s been four days”

Arya watched as Daenerys stirred, wiping her cheeks furiously and then rising from the bed she loved about, rearranging her brothers furs, resting a hand against his forehead, cursing under her breath and reaching for a cup of water. She pressed it to Jon’s lips and watched as he swallowed unconsciously. She put the cup back on the light stand and sent to Stoke the fire, seemingly ignoring the flames as she placed another log on the smouldering pile.

“Your grace” A gruff voice said from the door and Daenerys turned.  
“Ser Davos” she whispered gesturing for him to enter.  
His eyes rested worryingly on the King in the North. “How is he?”  
“Too cold, I don’t know how he’s alive”  
“He’s suffered much worse your grace” Davos muttered.  
“I can see that” the Queen whispered moving to stand beside Jon her finger lightly hovering over the gashes in his chest. “What happened”

“Mutiny.” The smuggler muttered. “He did the right thing and the racist bastards murdered him for it”

Arya could see the tears forming in the young Queen’s violet eyes “He came back...how?”

Davos shrugged lowering himself into a chair on the other side of the bed “The same way you didn’t burn when you brought your dragons into the world....magic I suppose if you believe in that sort of thing”

Daenerys shook her head “I do not believe in Magic, I believe in destiny.”

“Well he doesn’t, the poor man doesn’t give himself credit”

“That, Ser Davos, is something we can agree on”

The old man smirked “He doesn’t even let himself indulge- ah never mind”

It was Daenerys’ turn to smirk. “You are quite right, you know all of the men who have come to me wanting something have tried to seduce me, they tried to win my affection with arrogance and petty gifts and clever words. But not Jon. He is the first man I have ever met who not only was my match but knew it. It was the first time I could neither impress or intimidate a man with my titles or my armies or my dragons. I did not know much about the man, only whispers of a warrior fiercer than any man on earth, a man who’s people love him. I was arrogant, I thought I could manipulate him, to bend yet another hero to my will and yet I sit here a wreck in old clothes and unbrushed hair because not only can I not do that, but I don’t want to”.

“What do you want, if I may ask your grace”

Daenerys sighed absentmindedly brushing a strand of Jon’s hair from his face.

“I want to fight for him, I want to avenge my son and then once it is done I want to take the iron throne, with this man beside me, not as an inferior Lord, but as my equal, perhaps even my King.”

Davos nodded curtly. “ It’s a lot to want”

The queen nodded in agreement, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know and it terrifies me”

“You grace?”

She looked up. “It terrifies me because I have never wanted anything other than the iron throne my whole life....until now. When I received the news from eastwatch it took nought but a second to decide, and in that second I decided. I would give everything up for this man, for your king”

“You love him” Davos whispered. “Love is a powerful thing, it can be terrible as well do not forget it”

The old man stood his grey eyes puzzling over the little Queen as stared down at Jon, her violet eyes full of fear . “I love him” She whispered and the scene dissolved before them. 

Arya sat up as the throne room materialised around her. Santulana sat on the jade marble step before her.  
“He bends the knee almost two hours after that conversation. His reason is simple, Daenerys Targaryen saved his life, set aside her war to save him and the other men. He never regrets his decision to bend the knee. The north was never truly his in body or blood”

Arya blinked taking in the scene she had just witnessed. “So Jon bent the knee because he saw a Queen he wanted to serve, a selfless woman, with a kind and gentle heart, a strong head and just leader. He puts his people before his own desire” Arya stared mulling it over frowning. “But he needn’t have, because Daenerys loved him more than she did the throne”

Anger welled up inside her. “Why didn’t she tell him that? If she had allowed him to remain King in the North and married him then maybe....it would have been easier”

Santulana nodded solemnly. “Are you starting to understand the three eyed ravens power? A slight ever so subtle shift can have the largest ramifications. Had Daenerys been received with kindness and gratitude she would have declared the marriage proposal, united two nations. Had she been received with respect and love she would have given it back instead of asking an army who was not ready to fight enter once more into battle. The northerners all but spat at her feet, their lady cold and unwelcoming.”

“My sister was trying to protect her family-“

“From what?” The empress snapped the iron in her eyes darkening. “A woman who was so desperate for love? For a family? Shall I show you how Daenerys Stormborn questioned her lover on even the slightest detail of the north, how for almost a moon she read tirelessly of the northern history of its people. Who rode astride a horse instead of her dragons to show that she came in peace. Shall I tell you the first words that she spoke in the courtyard of winterfell, speaking of the north’s magnificence and its ladies beauty. Daenerys Targaryen went to winterfell intending to wed her lover, and befriend the Lady Of Winterfell to fight beside them. Instead she was met with by product of Cersei Lannister and Petyr Baelish’s political manipulation.”

Arya felt ashamed. The memories played before her in a new light, the reality of what Daenerys Targaryen had wanted versus what she received. It was enough to drive anyone to madness.

“Reality is a strange thing Princess” Santulana continued. “We perceive what we believe. If we believe our intentions are good and just, then our reality reflects them. True reality is often confused. The three eyed raven shifted the circumstances of the last war and many wars before that to create his own reality. Do you think it is chance that an old friend told you of Jon’s victories at the cross roads? That you arrived at Winterfell just after he had departed? The brother you had once vowed to protect above all your other siblings? Did you notice how you forgot those vows, how all loyalty for your surrogate brother dissipated the moment Sansa Stark thought she would make a better ruler? They tried to depose him, you witnessed it, they succeeded eventually but only after you and your sister asked the impossible of him, after you saw to it that he would be torn from the woman he loves , told to hate who he was. Who is Jon Snow, Princess?”

Arya gulped her teeth worrying at her lips. “He’s my brother” she whispered the crushing realisation that she had been played surging through her blood.

The empress shook her head moving her hand across the pool once more. He appeared in the pool, face ghostly white, his blood pooling put into the jade waters. “Jon Snow is dead. He died a long time ago and the hands of cowards”

The pool rippled and Jon say upon a wooden throne in a hall she did not recognise, the scars on his face faded, a circlet of iron and rubies atop his dark hair, shorter than she had ever seen it. He was garden in black plated armour the dragon of his fathers house stamped across his breastplate. No more did brown furs shroud his shoulders, instead a cloak as red as blood draped over his right shoulder. Beside him sat in a throne just as large was the Queen. Her silver hair anchored a similar crown in braids, her gown of onus mail and leather shrouded in scarlet velvet, her dragon chain pinning a similar cloak of scales to her shoulder.

“Is this real?” Arya asked reaching to touch the image before her. 

“Yes. Now again Princess who is Jon Snow?”

“A lie”

The empress looked at her with fervour “so who do you see?”

“The dragon’s son....Aegon Targaryen....the King. The true King”

“The three eyed raven would have you believe that he is the greatest threat to the realm now. He lies. Aegon and his Queen are the greatest threat to slavery, to control. They are the enemy of my brother but not the realm. They will bring fire and blood once more to the seven kingdoms. It will be for the last time. Their patience for betrayal, for mistakes and for lies is gone. They will be as merciful towards the lords and ladies of Westeros as they see fit.”

“I will fight for my brother” Arya interrupted.

“No!” The empress shouted, her voice hoarse and tired. “I don’t want you to want to fight for your brother, remember Arya Stark the reality! You will not be fighting for your brother, your brothers are dead, they are gone. I want you to want to fight for your king, for your Queen for the rightful rulers of the seven kingdoms. I want you to fight for fire and blood, for freedom. You make that decision knowing what will happen to those who will refuse their rule.” She took a breath and gestured back to the Targaryens blurred by the surface of the water. “You do not get one without the other. Without fire there is no ice, without North there is no south, east and no west. You kneel before King and Queen with equal loyalty. Do you understand?”

Arya nodded. “I must go to them. I must go home”. 

“You will but not yet. You will not be permitted into the King’s presence alone.The Queen is less like to trust you. But there are Four you will find. Four that they will trust. One who follows power, one who follows gold, one who follows loyalty and one who follows love. Find those four and then you shall return home.”


	13. Tyrion - Whispers of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion faces threats on two sides and is haunted by the dragon’s fury.

CHAPTER 13 -Tyrion

Whispers of the north.

He heard the patter of small feet before he saw them, three pairs all giggling away as they snuck up the stairs to his solar. Pretending he had not heard he continued quilling the document smirking to himself. The three rounded the corner screaming arms outstretched and Tyrion gasped in mock surprise.   
“We got you Unca!” The little girl with the golden hair giggled.  
“You didn’t see us coming” sang the little boy identical to his sister as he struggled to climb up on a seat.  
Tyrion stood and helped his nephew up onto the chair.   
“You are all quite terrifying , you rascals, how did you escape your lessons with the grand maester?”  
The twins smirked both pointedly staring at the smaller slightly rounder girl with muddy brown hair.   
Alys Tarly grinned sheepishly. “My Lady grandmother came my Lord” She started, her lisp clumsily falling over her words. “She started shouting about mongrels in lords clothing, and papa was quite scared,I think, so we ran from our history lesson”  
Tyrion frowned “Your lady grandmother is here?”  
Alys nodded furiously “Yes and my aunt Tala”  
Tyrion sighed, he knew of course why the Ladies of Horn hill had come to the capitol. They were one of many households forever furious with the appointment of Bronn as Lord of Highgarden. He received near twenty scrolls a week complaining but it had seemed that Lady Tarly had deemed it appropriate to attend herself.  
He turned to Joanna “Jojo where is your mother?”  
Joanna raised her head and painfully Tyrion could see her fathers face shining through her eyes, the mischievous glint that Jaime had when he was a boy. Both of them, Willam and Joanna resembled Tyrion’s big brother far more than their mother.  
“They have his look” Brienne had whispered almost bitterly a few days after their birth. She had been right, the only shadow of their mother was Willam’s blue eyes, but the rest. They were perfect Lannister twins. The bastards of fiercest knight in all the six kingdoms.  
“She is with the King today , they were watching little Sam train with Ser Pod-“  
Willam snorted. “Training is the wrong word Jojo”  
Alys Tarly leapt up from her seat and moved to cuff Willam about the head. “Don’t talk about my brother like that!”  
“He’s rubbish!” Willam laughed swatting away the girls pudgy hands. “I saw him yesterday! Kept dropping his stick and crying! Jojo will be a better fighter...ah get off me wildling!” Wolkan shouted as the little Tarly girl knocked him to the floor.  
“Children!”Tyrion called moving clumsily to try and pull them apart but to no avail, he was acutely aware of Joanna snorting behind him. 

“Alysanne Tarly what in gods name do you think you’re doing?” A voice shouted sharply from the doorway. Tyrion looked up to see Gilly standing there, arms crossed against her chest eyebrows raised in anger. Little Alys froze one hand scrunched into Willam’s golden hair the other raised as if to strike, her muddy brown eyes wide in terror at the appearance of her mother.  
“She attacked me Lady Gilly” Willam cried.  
“I was defending my brother!” Alys wailed but Gilly only lifted a hand and there was silence.   
“I do not wish to know or care who started what first, all three of you to bed now, you have disrupted Lord Tyrion long enough”

“But it’s still daylight!” Joanna protested pleading with Tyrion silently. “I can’t go to bed now”

Tyrion shrugged tiredly “You heard Lady Gilly”

Joanna scowled jumped off her stool and went to pull Willam to his feet. “Our mother will be hearing about this” she spat indignantly and together the twins stumbled away.

Tyrion sighed setting Alysanne on her feet. “Thank you Gilly” he smiled as she reached for her daughters hand.  
The wildling woman smiled tiredly. “It’s quite alright. Come on you” She whispered fondly st her daughter. “Let’s get you cleaned up”

Moments after the departure of his unruly niece and nephew and their friend, Tyrion was once interrupted by their mother and the grand maester.  
“I hear the children attacked you my Lord” Brienne chuckled as she took the place her son had been sitting in.  
“They attacked each other, Lady Gilly has taken them to bed”  
Tarly sighed “I’m sorry my Lord, I was watching them and then my mother arrived and well you know how heated conversations get”

“What did you mother have to say? She did not present herself at court today, I was unaware that she was visiting.”  
Sam pulled a pained face. “She, well ...she’s not exactly happy, she wants a private audience with his grace, but she doesn’t want the master of coin to find out”  
Tyrion groaned “your mother is still not happy about the Lord of Highgarden”.

“Most of the reach are not happy with the Lord of Highgarden” Sam grumbled “In their minds he is nought but a whore mongering sellsword who has killed his way to the top”

Tyrion chortled reaching for his wine cup and spreading his arms “they are not wrong.”

Samwell stuttered “My Lord?”

“They are not wrong, Grand Maester, Ser Bronn has killed his way to the top” Tyrion gulped down his wine. “Haven’t we all?”

Brienne and Samwell looked at him blankly, both their heads shook side to side simultaneously. 

He groaned internally. “Apparently I’m sitting in a room with the only two good people left in this world....What I mean to say is most men and women have murdered their way to the top. I murdered my mother, my father, I murdered thousands of men on Blackwater bay, I murdered my Queen-“

“Jon Snow murdered his Queen my Lord” Brienne interrupted and Tyrion winced watching as Samwell shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his old friend.

“Jon Snow did what I asked him to do, because...” Tyrion paused gazing down into his cup. “I was not brave enough to do it myself”

There was a stagnant silence and Tyrion felt the tears in his tired eyes. It had been the first time he had said that aloud, in almost four years. 

“I will speak with your mother and hear her grievances.” He whispered trying to change the subject.

The maester nodded. “Thank you, there is one other thing I want to speak to you about.” From a sleeve he pulled a scroll, the broken wax depicting the seal of the nights watch.

“Word from the Lord Commander? Does he need men?”

Sam chewed on his lip. “Well it seems as though it’s word from the Lord Commander, about progress on the wall, but...” he sighed.

“But?”

“Forgive me my Lord, but when I was at castle black I saw Jon sign dozens of scrolls, I watched as he wrote to the Lords of the North. I know his writing well. Well this isn’t his writing” He pulled more scrolls from his pocket laying each one out. “He writes every half year. Normally about the same issues. Lack of men, desolated wall ....you get the picture, but the words are too...” Samwell paused making a face.

Tyrion took one scroll and read over it. “He was never a man of words” He whispered, an unsettling curdling in his wine filled stomach.

“Exactly.” The maester muttered. “The writing is similar yes, but the language quite different. So I asked myself, why would Jon have another man write his scrolls? He is a learned man, and it’s lonely at castle black surely correspondence would be a comfort to him.” Sam took a breath. “I don’t think he’s a castle black my Lord. I don’t think he’s even at the wall”

“He swore a sacred vow, in exchange for his life and protection.” Brienne snapped. “He committed a heinous act, he betrayed his Queen”

Tyrion sighed palming his face. “So did I and I was rewarded with a comfortable life, a position of highest power. Jaime betrayed his King and was still allowed to remain in Kings Landing, he was even praised for his courage by certain people. We all make vows Brienne and most of them go broken not before long.” He gulped down wine ignoring her indignant stare over the mention of the late father to her children. “Where do you think he is, if not at the wall, Winterfell?”

Sam shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t go there, not after, well you know” he coughed and shuffled papers, the dark secret that lingered over them going unspoken at the presence of Brienne. “I sent word to Gilly’s sisters. Meg, she lives a little beyond the wall and she can read and just about write. I asked the question and she returned this.”

With a trembling hand he pushed a scrap of parchment in front of Tyrion. The writing was broken but the words spoke true enough of Tyrion’s fear.

The white wolf is dead. But there be dragons to the north and they will return with fire and blood.

Tyrion felt sick with fear, cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck and the parchment trembled in his hand. He cursed his stupidity, how could he have been so foolish? To consciously let a man full of rage and remorse go back to the only people that still followed him. 

The parchment was removed from his hand and Tyrion looked up as Brienne’s brow furrowed. “This...does not make any sense. Dragon? Daenerys is dead, her dragon lost, the Targaryens are all gone”

“Not all of them” Tyrion whispered feeling tears well in his eyes. 

He was met with a stare of caution and a hiss from Samwell and a simple look of none plus from Brienne.

“The dornish are rebelling” Sam cut in. “What if they know, they have only ever been peaceful when they were under Targaryen rule, what if Arianne Martell found out...what if....if they flock to his side?”

“Who’s side?” Brienne snapped scrunching the parchment in her fist anger glinting in her voice . “Speak plainly maester, the Dornish have my father”

“Jon Snow is not a bastard, he never has been. It was a lie told by Eddard Stark to protect him from Robert. In truth Jon is Ned Starks nephew, born in a tower in Dorne to the Lady Lyanna of house Stark” Tyrion said quickly and quietly. “Or as she was known on that day Lyanna of House Targaryen, the Princess of Dragonstone. His name, his true name is Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, son of Rhaegar Targaryen the last dragon” He took another gulp of his wine. 

Brienne looked between the both men disbelief plain on her face.

“You saw him ride a dragon” Tyrion continued. “You know how that works. No ordinary man can ride a dragon. He was no ordinary man”

“If this is true then why didn’t he press his claim?” Brienne started. “The throne was his by law”

Tyrion shook his head and watched as Sam grimaced. “He didn’t want it. He didn’t want the throne, he despised himself I believe. Despised who he really was. He never wanted that power, not when he had already pledged himself to Daenerys. He told her as much on many occasions. But the truth...it destroyed them. The truth saw thousands of innocents burned alive, a city razed to the ground and a Queen at the height of her power destroyed. It was not a good thing. But it was the right thing. After all that I couldn’t ask him to take that mantle. The wall seemed at the time like a respite, a small and easy price to pay. No crown, no glory, no wife. The King thought it would be for the best, let him rest we had said. Let him rest and forget the horrors he had been through.”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably. “But now? What this woman says, by the sounds of it he wants revenge.”

“We don’t know that” The maester protested. “These are Just whispers, unsettling at best but whispers all the same. Mayhaps i should go north, find out what he wants, it might be nothing”

“Or it might be war!” Brienne argued. “We should strengthen our position, make an alliance with the winter Queen.”

“I agree with you Commander. We need to assess our situation. The most pressing concern however is the Dornish. We still are awaiting the return of Lord Baratheon. These whispers can wait however, the Dornish I am fairly certain do not know of Jon Snow and if they do, would they really side with the son of Lyanna Stark, the woman who replaced their princess? No I think not. They are the bigger threat right now, not whispers from the North.”

Brienne nodded but Samwell still looked uneasy.

“My Lord Hand” Brienne asked her voice turning soft and fearful. “Arianne Martell has my father, if she were to march on the capitol , my children are not safe here, let me send them to safety. I could not live with myself if something were to happen to them.”

Tyrion saw the mother replace the warrior at these words. The mother of the bastards of Jaime Lannister was rarely present in court. She had been present the day she had come to him and confessed her pregnancy, how Jaime had taken her Maidenhead before he had left for Cersei. Tyrion had hugged her fiercely and had vowed that he would be as much as a father to her children, where Jaime no longer could. He had waited anxiously as she had given birth, praying silently to his dead big brother, that his children would live and be kind and be healthy. He had been the first to be beckoned in shortly followed by the King. Had held the twins with a stupid teary grin upon his face and had bawled when Brienne had proclaimed that the girl would be named for Tyrion’s mother. He had looked up to whatever heavens existed and hoped that she was looking down fondly at her grand children. He had spent the four years of their life loving them with his whole heart. Often brought to tears at how similar Willam was to his father the way he smirked, the light flashing in his green eyes, how Joanna had the fierceness of her namesake and even Tyrion had been proud to see the shadow of Tywin in the little girl’s manner. Despite their bastard names they were true Lannisters, little lion cubs running feral about the red keep. Brienne of Tarth was First the Commander of the Kingsguard and then a mother always, but today was one of the days where the mother came first. 

“Of course, I shall make arrangements for them to go to Casterly Rock, my aunt Genna will be more than happy to house them, she had great love for their father.”

Her face flooded with relief as she stood. “I must attend the King, thank you my Lord”

She left silence in her wake, only broken by the shuffling of papers. The Grand Maester stood his face hard with concern.

“What is it Tarly?” Tyrion sighed feeling a headache pulsating behind his eye sockets.

He sighed and stood up brushing down his robes, the chain around his neck clinking slightly. “You once ignored the threat to the north, even when whispers reached the capitol. Thousands died because of that. We can’t make that mistake again”

Tyrion hissed, inwardly cursing Eddard Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. “We won’t. I promise”

But when sleep came that night his nose filled with the smell of blood and Aegon Targaryen stood before him, Valyrian sword in hand armoured in black ice, hard foreboding eyes glaring at him from atop the stone plinth, his lip curling in fury. Above his shoulder loomed the great black beast that had once torn a city asunder.

“It wasn’t right” Aegon growled. “And you knew it”

Drogon rose, his jaws widening as flames built inside the great beasts jugular and Aegon smiled as sweetly as Daenerys once had and whispered the word that terrified Tyrion above all else. 

“Dracarys”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference Joanna and Willam have the surname Hill.
> 
> Also still very few people know the truth about Jon
> 
> Thank you always for the support!


	14. Gendry - Remember who put you where you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is faced with a difficult decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it’s been a while it took a LONG time to write this ...I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 14

Gendry

Remember who put you where you are

 

It seemed Gendry did nothing but rage these days. The sheer frustration that pumped through his veins was enough to pummel a wall to dust and yet he stood helpless in the throne room trying desperately to make this mummers farce of a court see sense.

He had ridden with speed straight to the capital asking for a private audience with the King and had waited in a Mance above the street of silk for a reply. Apparently being the Lord of Storm’s End was not enough to get a bed in the red keep, also apparently not enough to get a private audience with the King. As soon as he had arrived Pod had smiled sympathetically and rode into the keep with the promise of an audience. Even Davos had stayed silent, so with no apparent meeting he had settled in the Mance trying all his best not to be tempted by either of the courtesans who were also in residence or the tempting offer that Arianne had made him.

If I was King of the Stormlands I would not have to wait, he pondered to himself often. But that was treason, and Brandon Stark was his King. 

Arya would never forgive him if he turned on her brother......She’s dead you stupid bull, he had cursed and then laughed to himself. Death wouldn’t stop her from making your life miserable....

Finally after almost a fortnight Davos had returned and told him that he must present himself to the court, that the King wanted to hear of Dorne. So he had gone, rid himself of his sword and entered the Throne room, well... he had joined the queue of lesser nobles mainly from the reach all complaining over their liege.

“Sorry about this son” Davos muttered as Gendry watched as Brandon Stark heard his people’s grievances atop the modest wooden throne perched on the carpet of molten iron that had once been the throne of Gendry’s father and all the dragons before him. “The Lady of Hornhill is the Grand Maester’s mother she’s been seeking an audience for near a month, she refused to be turned down today.”  
“They bicker of taxes and lords and yet there is a war sitting at the King’s border. You’d think that, that would be more important, especially as the Princess holds the commander of the King’s Guards father captive.”  
“Aye the King is well aware Lad, but I wouldn’t call it a war, more of a skirmish”

Gendry scowled at his old friend but could say nothing as the herald was calling him forward, the ladies of Hornhill turning on their heels and striding furiously from the hall. 

“Lord Baratheon I trust your journey faired well” Brandon Stark called from his seat. 

“It was swift your grace, I have been waiting for an audience for near a fortnight”

“I know My Lord, I must apologise, I have been.....quite preoccupied”

The King was only just a man, barely twenty years yet his expression was older, his blue eyes ringed with dark circles, his auburn hair unruly beneath the plain circlet of iron and his tone of indifference grated Gendry so far the wrong way he wanted to punch him.

Trying to calm his temper Gendry ground his teeth in frustration, but remembering his manners he smiled, stiffly bowing. “I bring news from Dorne your grace.”

“Your lords are in good condition” The King stated almost pleasantly.

“With respect your grace, my Lords are in captivity, held against their will” Gendry bit back the poison threatening to spill.

Beside the King, Tyrion Lannister grimaced. “We understand your concern over them and your people my Lord, it is quite an unfortunate situation but-“

“An unfortunate situation?” Gendry scoffed, manners forgotten,“Your grace the Princess Arianne is threatening war! This isn’t an unfortunate situation it is a true and real threat and we need to fight it, i need armies from the vale and the reach, i need the men, I will lead them myself in your name your grace”

“We can’t go to war every time an unruly Lord or Lady wishes to press their claim” Lord Tyrion argued exasperated. “We don’t have the men to give you, our numbers have been massacred for years”

“You do realise she wants independence for Dorne and not just for Dorne, for all of the six kingdoms, she may not have the men or ships to fight them all, but what will happen when she turns to the reach, or the vale and pillages their towns, kills the women and children. They will turn to their King. What happens when the King refuses to see them, tells them that he doesn’t have the armies to give?”

“Watch your tongue my Lord” Tyrion continued but the King held up a hand.

“Of course he is right, lack of support from the king would make independence seem far more appealing. I granted it to the North because of what my sister had endured and the horrors that were committed to my family. No such horrors have been inflicted upon Dorne, none such to the reach or the Westerland or the Vale or the Riverlands. I understand your concerns my lord, but there are other ways to deal with Arianne Martell.”

“Please your grace” Gendry seethed feeling his fists tighten. “Do humour me”

“She is unmarried and her power is fragile, her family is gone, she needs someone to help her solidify her lineage...you have been offered many wives my Lord all of whom you have refused.”

Gendry gaped in disbelief, was this boy King honestly implying that the answer to an incoming war was marriage. 

“Your grace-“ Gendry started but Davos interrupted him.

“Your grace, whilst you make a fair point, a marriage alliance would have been useful a few months ago but I fear we are beyond that type of negotiation, there are men’s lives at risk.”

“And we quite understand that Lord Seaworth” Tyrion grimaced. “But we simply don’t have the men to spare.”

“ Go to the Princess my Lord” The king declared. “Seal a marriage pact and be done with it. I would have this skirmish dealt with.”

It was madness but it seemed everyone in the room save Davos and himself ignored it. Gendry’s patience was gone, his Lordly manners disintegrated as the blood rang in his ears. The king made a hand signal and Podrick began to wheel him away.

“She gave me two choices Stark” Gendry called as the King retreated. “Fight with her or fight against her and risk my people’s innocent blood being spilled. It appears despite my loyalty to you and your family you have given me no choice”

He turned from the dais cursing under his breath.

“You are making a grave mistake my Lord” The Hand of the King called angrily. “Do not forget who put you where you are today”

Gendry paused his fists clenching and unclenching, turning he glared at Tyrion Lannister his face contorted in rage.

“Aye I remember who put me where I am today, you stand on the remnants of her throne”.

And with his words ringing about the hall he stormed out, only acutely aware of Davos following him out.

“If you are going to arrest me Davos then innocent people will die before the moon is out” Gendry said as he seized his sword from the guard house and pushed too much coin into the stable boys hand.

“I’m not going to arrest you I’m going to come with you.”

Gendry paused as they both mounted their horses.

“Why?”

Davos shrugged. “Because we must do what needs to be done, and if that means putting a crown on your head to protect innocents then I shall do it”

Gendry gnashes his teeth and nudged his horse forward. “I don’t want to be a King, I just want to protect my people”

Davos smiled sadly. “I once knew a man who said the exact same thing to me once.”

“Aye and what happened to him?” Gendry asked thinking he knew the answer.

“He lost everything”.

“I’m not my Uncle” Gendry whispered but Davos stared st him pointedly. 

“I wasn’t talking of your uncle”

The ride to Storm’s End was spent in silence their only comfort the galloping of hooves and Gendry pushed his destroy harder and further craving the smell of the ocean, and moss and stone. He found comfort in his home, filled his halls with tradesman, merchants, singers and jesters. He often was seen diving from the cliffs into the dark grey water early in the mornings or even in the gorges at night teaching all he could to the smiths. But his favourite activity was riding. The ability to take any horse he wanted from the stables and ride across the country side was something novice and thrilling to him. As a boy he had envied those in King’s Landing who manoeuvred the over packed streets atop their steeds. It was the first thing he had asked to be taught properly when he arrived at his fathers castle and took up the mantle of Lord. His favourite route to ride was along the cliffs north of the castle. The view was spectacular, Storms End jutted on its cliff with the sun rising above the horizon the ocean lapping viscously at the rocks. 

His heart raced with Adrenalin when he reached this view but before he had time to admire the scenery or even had time to kick his horse into pace his squire Em was running frantically along the rock path towards them, in the distance he could see his master of arms struggling to keep up with the long legged boy.

“My Lord!” Em cried his face as red as beets. He drew up shot and braved air into his skinny lungs hands braced on his knees.

“Em” Gendry said as he swung down to the ground. “What is it?”

“SHIPS!” He cried. “They came this morning!”

“How many?”

“Close to one hundred my Lord” Ser Ormund winced. 

Gendry growled his hand clenching on his sword pummel. “We had a moon to decide it has only been a fortnight, she would break the treaty so early?”

But Em was shaking his head “No my Lord its not the Dornish, She wouldn’t give us her name, but she says she’s here to see you.”

Gendry frowned. “Is she westerosi?”

Em nodded “I think so my Lord, The maester doesn’t recognise her though and her companions don’t look Westerosi, but they don’t look like they are from the east”

“What does she look like?” Gendry asked quietly, trying to control his fluttering heart beat.

“Quite beautiful in truth my Lord not that it apparently matters to you” Em grinned and Gendry wanted to clout him on the ear for his cheek. “She’s got brown hair, she’s not exactly dressed like a lady you know with a gown, well she’s kind of wearing a gown but it looks you know more practical-“

“Lord Baratheon doesn’t want to know the exact bloody intricacies of the woman’s gown Em” Ser Osmund barked. “I don’t know if she imposed a threat my lord but she refuses to lay down her arms.”

“Arms? What arms?” Gendry frowned. It won’t be her he chanted in his mind...But it might be another voice whispered full of hope.

“A pretty impressive dagger, Valyrian steel mayhaps and a sword if you can even call it that, tiny thing more like a -“

“Needle” Gendry gasped his face going pale. 

Ser Osmund chuckled. “Aye, don’t know what use it would have my Lord”

“Oh I don’t know” Gendry grunted hauling himself atop his horse once more. “Quite a few I’d imagine” He called over his shoulder as he galloped away.

He did not pay heed to the thousand questions that were playing through his mind as he rode, all he knew was that he had yearned to see her face ever since the docks of Kings Landing all those years ago. He wanted to feel her beneath his touch, to inhale her smell of pine and wild flowers.

The courtyard was buzzing with activity but Gendry ignored it all, he paid no mind to the bows and curtseys, he only wanted to get to her. As he reached the double doors of the great hall he paused slightly letting his heart beat still for a moment and gaining his senses. 

She stood with her back to him, her hair longer than he had ever seen it coiled up and pinned at the back of her head, long emerald green robes stopping just short of her knees, belted round her middle by a stiff looking corset, needle and the Valyrian dagger strapped to her hips, void of the childish boyishness now supple and curved. She had a woman’s figure and Gendry felt himself gulp at the sight. She had always been beautiful, even in boys clothes but now there was a striking elegance about her. Striking and dangerous.

She turned and Gendry was left struck dumb at her perfection. Her eyes molten iron alight with that old mischief always ensuing danger. Her lips drawn up into a subtle smirk, her cheeks tanned and windswept, whispers of her dark hair framing her face. 

“Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End” The words sounded beautiful on her tongue, the hint of a northern accent pushing through that of a traveller. He wanted to draw her to him, to grasp her cheek and crash his lips to hers, to taste her. All in an instant he wanted to delve into her intricate clothing to find her underneath scarred and beautiful and naked. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her again like he had done all those years ago.

But he couldn’t. Any lady would be lucky to have you. Those had been her words when he had gone to her craving the one thing his new title had given him the power to ask. Her. 

He swallowed his grief and heart break and cleared his throat remembering his lessons.  
“Princess Arya Stark, daughter of the realm and hero of Winterfell. You gave my maester quite the fright. Your arrival is certainly unexpected.”

“Begging your forgiveness my lord” She sneered. “I came as a matter of urgency”

Gendry raised his eyebrows rocking back on his heels desperately trying to ignore his throbbing cock. “Urgency? Came from where might I ask Princess”.

Her eyes hardened. “You may not, and don’t call me that”.

He hissed at her stubbornness and pushed past her ignoring the waft of wild flowers that radiated from her hair. Sitting upon the Storm chair he took joy in looking down upon her. If that is the game you want to play Arya, then let us play, he thought as he clenched the arm rest.

“You are the sister of both the Queen in the North and the King of the six kingdoms.” Gendry griped and she smirked.

“Been giving you lessons have they? If we are going off titles my Lord, then you are technically a prince of the realm, your late father being a King and all”

Gendry bit back the venom on his tongue, he was not proud to be Robert Baratheon’s son, it had brought him so much grief in his life he was glad that the man was rotting in the ground. “I will have my maester write to your brother and sister to let them know of your arrival your grace, I am sure they are anxious to see you, the world believing you to be dead and all”

Her face hardened yet Gendry was still frustratingly mesmerised. “No, I’d rather them not know my whereabouts” she paused her eyes softening slightly. “It was you I came to see, not them”.

The admission was enough to make Gendry want to bundle her up in his arms or kneel at her feet.

“You’ve brought one hundred ships, a bit much for a friendly visit” 

She smirked. “One hundred and three my Lord.”

There was a stagnant pause and Gendry stared perplexed at her. “Why?”

“You went to see my brother today, because Arianne Martell is threatening to invade the Stormlands and she has three of your lords in captivity. She will kill them I think if you don’t give her what she wants.”

It was not a question and Gendry could not pretend to hide his astonishment that she knew this. Flexing his fists he sighed. “I went to your brother and asked him for men ....he refused. He told me to secure an alliance through marriage. I might as well as hope for world fucking harmony. What am I supposed to do with that? I do not have the men to fight the Dornish nor will I see any innocent life put to the sword because your brother is too ignorant to see what is going on outside his castle walls” He shifted uncomfortably. “So if your here to execute me for treason then go ahead Arya take my head, or stab me through the heart like your brother did to the woman he loved, if that is to be my fate fine, but I hope Arianne Martell rips you Starks to shreds because I will NOT see another drop of innocent blood spilt.”

Gendry has not meant to yell, yet he found a slight satisfaction at the flicker of disturbance that passed across Arya Stark’s face.

“I am not here to execute you, or arrest you, I am not here on my brother’s behalf. I’m here to help you and I’m also here because I need your help and your people’s support” Her voice wavered slightly but she stood tall her eyes never leaving his.

Gendry looked away sighing through a headache that was forming behind his eyes. “Arya I am grateful for your support but I can’t ask you to stand by my side when I declare myself King. Your brother has left me no choice I will protect my people”.

“But you don’t want it” She whispered.

“No I don’t want it Arya!-“ He started but she stepped up to him, her eyes fearful, a smooth hand reached for his.

“What if there was another choice. A better one. One that would keep the kingdoms united properly whilst also protecting the innocents. Because it is them who will suffer. It’s always them that suffers.”

“What choice Arya” He whispered, only too aware of his maester, Ser Davos and his squire standing in the doorway, of Arya’s companions forever staring at their intimate touch.

“Unity, freedom, a better world. There’s a darkness here Gendry, a darkness in all of us that controls us, twists our thoughts, makes us think and do terrible things. Abandoned our gods, break our vows to our families, even burn our people alive by the thousands. The true enemy was never death but something much worse, much much worse. Something we can not see or hear or feel or touch and we have to fight it.”

He pulled her fingers to his lips savouring the taste of the ocean and smiled sadly. “Arya the dead are gone, Cersei Lannister is gone, I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve seen but .... what you’re describing is terrible but have you thought that maybe there are just awful men and women in this world? We’ve both seen that, we’ve seen loyal men betray their loved ones, we’ve seen just women murder innocents, Lords murder their Kings. It’s a shit world and maybe we just have to accept it and try and do our best to not be like the ones that came before us.”

Arya pulled her hands back her eyes growing cold. “We need to be on the right side of this my Lord, because they won’t show us any mercy if we are not. It’s too late for that. If you don’t believe me fine, proclaim yourself King of the Stormlands and let your people watch you lose your mind. That is if the Queen and her King allow you to live long enough that is, they may be merciful to you, they may end your life before you start to slaughter innocents on the command of a crippled boy! I can’t say the same for me, I’ve betrayed them too many times, no if I choose wrong....” She paused her eyes brimming with tears. “They’ll burn me alive”

Gendry remained silent, her words weren’t making sense there was something there a hint she was trying to make obvious and yet he couldn’t grasp it.

“It’s sounds as if” Ser Davos began. “You have two very powerful enemies, forgive me your grace I had a lot of respect for your family but we’ve already got enough on our plates, what ever help you may be able to give us would be futile if it only meant facing your enemies after, whom ever they may be”

 

“You misunderstand me Ser” Arya said shaking her head. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and my enemy has been hiding in plain sight for years. No one questioned him, why would they? He lay beyond the wall for more than a millennia and then summoned what he needed when he needed at exactly the right time.” She looked down to her hands evidently recalling a memory that she would not share. “Who would question Eddard Starks last remaining crippled son when he asked to cross back into the seven kingdoms. Brandon the broken we called him, Brandon the King we hailed him, of house Stark, the boy with all the stories. Brandon Stark died years ago in a cave far to the north and he was arrogant enough to tell us. The three eyed raven, that’s who inhabits my dead little brother’s body now. A thousand eyes and one infiltrating the minds of some of the most powerful people in the realm.”

The silence rang through the hall and Arya Stark sat on the stone step at Gendrys feet, waiting for someone to acknowledge what she had just said. It made sense and yet it didn’t, part of him wanted to accept that the love of his life had truly lost her mind, that she was seeing shadows that weren’t there, to renounce her story. But Gendry had seen magic in the world, he had seen dragons and dead men, witches and wargs, he’d met men who had been brought back to life after being dead for days. Suddenly a darker power that may have shaped their present life was far more believable that it once could have been, when he was just an orphan bastard who could make swords.

“How do you know that the three eyed raven has been in people’s minds?” Ser Davos asked his grey brow furrowed deeply.

“Because he was in mine” She whispered and for the first time Gendry heard terror in her tone. “Subtlety at first, he took a thought I had had as a girl and latched onto it. What is west of Westeros? Then the more I thought about it, after I left Winterfell the more I wanted to know. When I saw the destruction of King’s Landing, when I fought through it more thoughts made appearances. I was there to kill the Queen, but which Queen? The woman who had taken my entire family from me? Who had tormented my sister? Or was it the woman who had saved the north and had lost everything for it? It was I who gave Jon the dagger that he later plunged into his Queen’s heart. Jon knew of course that it was the three eyed raven urging me on, he knew that despite my loyalties to my brother and the rightful King I would later agree to exile him. When I was no longer useful to the three eyed raven off I went on a ship, in the three eyed ravens plan I would never return. I’m a threat to his rule, to my sisters rule in the north and so when a storm hit my ship I indeed lost my mind. So perfect, so fitting” She spat bitterly roughly pulling up the sleeve of her right arm. “I had destroyed one of the three eyed ravens enemies, helped orchestrate the murder of another and exiled his last one. My purpose was served” 

A savage scar running vertically from the the crease of her elbow to her wrist glared in the dying light and Gendry wanted to vomit. Davos and Em crowded around her and both recoiled when they saw it.

“How did you survive this?” Gendry muttered.

“With help” Arya returned looking over to the companion. 

“But I don’t understand, if he can get into everyone’s mind how do we stop him? How would we win? And how does this help us hold off the dornish, forgive me Arya I believe you I truly do but I’ve got three of my lords held at knife point and my kingdom is about to be razed to the ground”

Arya looked back to him. “I know, there is only one way we win. Together. All of us, following the two people he cannot control. The two people who have died so that their people might be free. So that every man woman child need not move in fear. The wheel did not break the rich are richer, the poor more destitute than ever. We knew a Queen once who wanted to crush that wheel of misery, we knew a King once who would rather give up his crown than see thousands of innocents die for nothing. They are more than us, they have overcome unspeakable magic, their blood is more powerful than any of ours and we betrayed them. We prove their forgiveness by following them now.”

The room was silent, the words she was saying were on the brink of madness but Gendry saw the fierceness in her eyes. He would not question it. Ever. Unfortunately his advisors had other notions. 

“Daenerys Targaryen is dead. Jon Snow saw to that. He made the ultimate sacrifice and now he serves his sentence at the wall” Maester Terrance proclaimed concern flashing across his face as he stood nervously clenching his fists. “Nothing can reawaken the dead, not anymore”

It was a bitter amendment to his statement Gendry thought, in truth he knew his maester still did not entirely believe that the dead had once destroyed most of the north. But it seemed Arya had ignored the comment, she instead turned to Davos. 

“Ser Davos, you know that statement to be incorrect. We have all seen the dead rise at the hand of the night king but you have seen a man return to life. Tell me after seeing that happen to the last male heir of the Targaryen dynasty do you think it could happen to the last female heir to the Targaryen dynasty. The mother of dragons, the unburnt?”

Davos frowned. “I’ve seen many things Princess, yes I saw your brother return to life after being dead for three nights, but I also saw that same broken beyond repair after killing the woman he loved and his Queen. That didn’t look like a man who knew that the mother of dragons would return to him and even if there was a slightest chance that Drogon took his mother to a red priestess and she returned surely she would kill Jon. The man who loved her and then betrayed her-“

“That is where you are wrong” Arya persisted. “Ser Davos i am not posing questions to be theorised. I am telling you facts. Jon knew exactly what he was doing when he put that dagger in the Queens heart. Fact. Jon is a Targaryen and fully understands the power that comes with that bloodline. The power he demonstrated when he rode and controlled a dragon. He used that same power to transfer his true intentions to the Queen’s remaining son. Fact. Daenerys Targaryen was resurrected four years ago in the high temple in Volantis by the high priestess Kinvara. Fact. She returned to Jon a few moons after that beyond the wall. Fact. The freefolk have proclaimed both he and Daenerys their King and Queen. The true rulers of Westeros. There may not be an iron throne anymore but this is not about taking back what used to belong to their ancestors. This is about creating something new. A Targaryen dynasty unlike any other and they will do it whatever the cost. Not because they want to, because they have to. This country is lead by the corrupt, the controlling, the evil and they will purge it. We have to help them else we are just like the rest. There is a war coming, greater than before, more intricate, dark and bloodstained. We need to be on the right side of this. There is no in between either we are with them. Or we are against them. If we are against them we will die. And not necessarily at their hands.”

She turned back to him and Gendry felt himself concede. If there was even an ounce of truth in what she was saying then he owed it to the woman who put him where he was to be loyal. He owed it to the man who told the Queen who he was. He owed it to his great grandmother who had done her duty as a Targaryen Princess. He flexed his fists and stood.

“Maester Terrance, call the banners, we ride for Summerhall at first light. Let all know that now is a time for unity. The unity of seven kingdoms under one name. One house. Tell them that we must do our duty now. Great or small we must do our duty. We must bend our knees once again to dragons and we must keep our knees bent in perpetuity.”


	15. Arya- The Lord of Storm’s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry come to terms with the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys I am so sorry for the delayed update this summer has run away with me! Anyway here we go! Enjoy!

Arya 

The Lord of Storm’s End

He had not showed her to her rooms. The wiry boy had instead, a toothy grin spread across his face as he almost slipped up the spiral stair cases that were set into the walls of the keep.

“You killed the night king” He babbled happily as he gestured to certain features of the keep. “With a Valyrian steel dagger! Do you still have it? What was it like? It must have been amazing to see with dragons and Dothraki and dire wolves! Was it as fantastic as they tell my my lady?”

Arya couldn’t help but smile at his naivety, that childish wonder she had once felt when her father had told her stories of the conquest. Mayhaps his childish wonder could stay strong in his heart and not be crushed with the reality of blood and death.

“Sorry for the questions” He stuttered as he took in her silent panic. “Mother always said I ask too many and Lord Gendry tells me I shouldn’t stick my nose in other people’s business”

Arya smiled. “They are quite wrong, questions help you learn. Tell that to your mother next time she tells you that”

His face fell almost immediately and Arya knew she had said something wrong.

“I won’t be able to my lady. She’s dead you see” He paused in front of a wooden door his feet shuffling awkwardly. “She died in Kings Landing with my brothers. The wildfire, it exploded when the dragon came.”

Arya sank to her knees before him drawing him into an embrace. “I’m sorry”

The boy shrugged her off. “It’s alright.” He muttered “I don’t really remember it. I was only six, and then Lord Gendry found me, made me his squire and I’ve lived here ever since. It was a war. I tried to tell mum that maybe it wasn’t safe in the city but we didn’t have anywhere else to go so we had to stay.”

Arya nodded and sat back on her heels. “Sometimes...in times of war we make decisions that we think are good. Sometimes they work, but other times they don’t and people get hurt. The only thing we can do in that instance is fix it. Lots of people made the wrong decisions in the last war. We have to fix them now”.

Em nodded and wiping his face furiously he turned to undo the latch of the door. “These are your rooms my lady. Let me know if you need anything. Your companions are just down the hall.”

The room was large with a view spanning the cliffs and hills beyond. It had been a while since she had slept in a proper bed and her back ached for it. 

“Thank you Em” Arya smiled sitting upon the four poster her hand smoothing over the furs. 

The boy bowed and turned but paused at the stairs. “He’s happy to see you. He refused to believe it when the King said you were dead”

Arya felt her heart warm at this, but the boy was gone before she could say anything.

Leda and Faye arrived soon after accompanied by some of the castle’s serving ladies tubs of steaming water carried between them and Arya stripped her clothes and sunk gratefully into the warm water letting the months of salt and grime wash off her creating a misty film on the steaming surface. Her salt stiffened hair was pulled through several combs as she sat there in her usual silence. 

Power. Money. Loyalty. Love. Her mantra played over and over in her head. Once when she had been a girl her mantra had been the names of dead people, but she had been young and foolish and full of hate. Now she had only power, money, loyalty and love the four she must find before she could beg for forgiveness, before she could fight one last time.

Arya dismissed her ladies once her hair was washed and wrapped herself in a robe her minds eye playing on the Lord of Storms End. That was what he was now, a wonderful Lord as she had predicted, wonderful and comely. Had he always been comely? Flashes of a dark parlour, fevered kisses and the sharp smell of blood and seed played in her memories. He had been comely then but maybe she had not cared for such things. She still didn’t and yet there was something about this Gendry. Something new, stronger and surer and it made that small pocket in her otherwise steel heart warm.

“I want to know what it feels like” She had said all those years ago, and she had truly. 

She had also wanted to get rid of her deep fear of what was to come, but that was then. Now it was different, everything had changed and while she could hide in the Stormlands and avoid the confrontation with her brother, her King and his Queen, she knew that inevitably if she did it do as she had been trained she would soon be ashes in the snow. She would not allow herself to become attached to the Lord of Storm’s End, it would only be harder for him to follow Jon and Daenerys if they were to execute her.

I will give them what they need the most. I will do my duty. I will deliver their armies, I will deliver the north, I will serve for as long as they bid me. Valar Dohaeris.

A knock at the door stirred her from her internal vows and she turned to see Gendry looming in the doorway a tray of food in his arms.

“Bringing me food is below your station my Lord” Arya said gesturing him to enter and he chuckled quietly.

“Once a bastard always a bastard no amount of lands titles or finery can cover that up Princess” He set the tray down upon a small table on her balcony. “Plus i am but the messenger, Hot Pie wanted to bring you his bread directly but I am afraid he is too busy running my kitchens”

Arya’s heart kept at the word of their friend and she swept over to the loaf of bread still hot from the oven. “Hot Pie is here?” 

He sunk down in a chair and nodded. “Yes, I brought him with me. Figured he could use a proper home and a proper job”

Arya smiled fondly. “Not the only one from what I here.” She sat across from him and tore off some of the loaf savouring the taste. “Your squire...that was very kind of you”

A pained expression crossed his face. “They deserved it, all of them. After everything. It’s as I always said, it’s the innocents that suffer. The women and children. I would have brought them all if I could. I just want to help, it is all I have ever wanted”

The silence pressed on them and Arya spent the time eating more food. It was a good selection. Game pie, salted fish, an onion soup and bread. When she could not eat anymore she pushed it towards Gendry. 

“We haven’t shared food since the war.” Gendry smiled fondly. 

“I think there’s more on that plate than we ever ate over three years” Arya retorted standing and opening her trunk pulling out clothes  
“Finish that and then you can show me around.”

“I thought you didn’t care for my castle or mylands Arya” He muttered as he spooned soup into his mouth and Arya paused her fists clenching around a silk chemise. She knew this would come, but some part of her had hoped that it would wait.

“I never said I didn’t care for them”

“No” Gendry said venom clear in his voice. “You just didn’t want them, you didn’t want me”

She threw the chemise to the ground in frustration and rounded on him. “I always wanted you. I just didn’t want to be stuck in some castle pretending to be someone I wasn’t . I’m not a lady, I never have and never will be-“

He stood abruptly pushing the tray from him and towering over her, his hand reaching to grasp the back of her neck forcing her to look into his sapphire eyes. “You think I would make you do that? You think I wanted that? If I wanted a woman in silks and corsets I would have asked your sister. I want you Arya. The real Arya. The Arya Stark Who is a pain in my bloody arse, the Arya Stark who ran around in boys clothing with a ridiculous sword strapped to her hip. The Arya Stark Who fought by my side when we thought we were all going to die. I never expected nor wanted you to be someone your not, but that didn’t mean that you had to turn me away.”

Arya fought the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks as she rested her forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry” she whispered suddenly feeling like a child again. “I was foolish and stupid and not in my right mind. There was so much going on and I was arrogant enough to think that I could end the war single handedly.”

His arms wrapped about her and she felt his lips on her head. “We were all stupid and arrogant. We were young and foolish” 

Arya laughed and looked up. “We were weren’t we?” She patted his chest. “Come on, show me around, I want to see your home”

He grinned boyishly as he backed off. “It is pretty spectacular” He spread his arms and spun grinning like a fool. “And it’s all mine”

He waited outside whilst she changed and offered his arm when she emerged and Arya chose not to notice the way he stared at her.

“You look good” He stammered and she smiled quietly.

“Thanks....so do you”.

They walked for what seemed like hours, Gendry showed her every room, every hall explaining his new found knowledge on the castle and on his family. He spoke of the lessons he had learnt with his maester, of how ridiculous he had felt when he had been forced to learn how to dance. As they exited the main castle and crossed the bridge to the mainland he told her of his aims to ensure that no child under 10 was forced to work, how they were educated in letters and numbers and asked to choose a skill to learn. He proudly showed her the forge which he had had rebuilt and manned correctly. Arya hung onto every word smiling proudly at his progress, he was in truth as she had predicted a wonderful Lord. Any woman would be lucky to have him. But she knew he didn’t want just any woman.

“So will you come to Summerhall on the morrow?” Gendry asked as they trudged out onto the cliff side.

“Of course, I said I would help you”

Gendry sat down in the grass his arms resting on his knees. “Then we sail North to your brother and Daenerys”

Arya paused. “You will go North with the Dornish. I have a map for you to follow, it shouldn’t take more than two moons should the tide-“

“You can’t go Arya” Gendry snapped. “Not when you’ve only just returned. I’m not meeting your brother without you. If not for you I wouldn’t even know that the Queen was alive, that Jon planned on taking back their legacy.”

“I know but I can’t go there without settling a few things first.” Arya muttered staring out to her ships down in the bay.

“What are you talking about?” Gendry exclaimed. “What do you need to settle. Where do you plan on going?”

Arya ground her teeth and clenched st the grass. “ I have to go East. I may be Jon’s sister but I betrayed him, I betrayed Daenerys. I need to prove to them that I am loyal, that I choose them”

Gendry’s eyes widened as the realisation of what she was saying settled over him. “Arya, you are brave and beautiful and the scariest woman I know but seven hells you are stupid if you think that you can convince the unsullied to come back to Westeros with you.”

“Not just the unsullied Gendry. The Dothraki too, the second sons, the red priests of ashai. They all follow her and Daenerys needs them. If I can bring them to her then she might forgive me.”

“That is of course if you survive the journey” He snorted in anger “Arya remember who you are! In their eyes you are the sister of the man who murdered their Queen. You may have fought by their side once but you never made the effort to understand them, to work with them. They will have your head before you can make your case.”

“What choice do I have? Send a raven? The three eyed raven will have them in his grasp quicker than they could read the summons! I have people who would fight for me, I am not some helpless woman!”

“You are not” Gendry growled “you are a murderous woman, I know that you know that they know that. But they need to see Westerosi who are loyal to their Queen.” He paused his chest heaving with anger. “I will accompany you with some men I know to be loyal to House Targaryen”

Arya scoffed. “Gendry you are more use up north-“

“No” Gendry almost shouted and Arya was reminded on his father all those years ago when she had set Nymeria on Joffrey. “I will send Davos in my stead and we shall go east. I know Greyworm and I respect him. We should sought him out first I think. If we go to the Dothraki with the unsullied there is little chance they will take us as slaves”

“You seem to know a lot about the Dothraki considering how little time you spent with them” Arya muttered scornfully.

“Aye and you know very little about them which goes to show. I’m not asking to come with you m’lady im telling you that I am.”

Arya chewed her lip. She had not planned on it. She did not wish to drag Gendry into something as dangerous as crossing the narrow sea. But he was right, whilst she did not need his protection, she needed his loyalty to Daenerys and Jon. 

“It’s not going to be easy” Arya whispered, twisting herself so that she was looking at him square on.

Gendry half smiled his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “When has it ever been easy Arry”

She smiled sadly “Never”.


	16. Arianne - Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne treats with Lord Baratheon and lets on to more than most.

Arianne

Fire and Blood

The mist rose in the dewy spring air making the ashen ruins of Summerhall seem as if they were still smoking from the tragedy that had happened all those years ago. Despite her guard and retinue she still felt displaced amongst them. An intruder on some great mystery. They had received word from Lord Baratheon sooner than she had expected and immediately she had called her banners. Dorne was going to war, yet she would not sit idly like her father had. Arianne would lead this, the Princess of Dorne, would become Queen. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

“When are we to expect them?” Daemon asked impatiently rising from his seat after the fourth hour of waiting. Arianne raised an eyebrow at her sworn sword.   
“They will come.” She replied calmly staring out at the leafy canopy which stretched above their heads.

“How do you know that this is not some trap” He retorted his right hand flexing forever on his sword pommel.

“We have two of his Lords. He would not risk their lives for a simple trap”

Daemon snorted. “Princess have you considered that I may recognise a trap better than-“

Arianne’s fury bubbled as she rose. “Than me? I have spent most of my life in captivity both actually and metaphorically. I have been trapped more times than I can count. The Lord of Storm’s End has not set a trap”

“Can you really believe-“

“You serve at my pleasure Ser Daemon” She snapped her patience ceasing. “It is my pleasure that you shut up and take a damned seat”

Arianne could see his frustration peak but he held his tongue and sat down sullenly his arms folded tightly across his chest. She resumed her musings enjoying the silence of nature.

As she had predicted the sound of hooves trampling dirt grew closer and closer and Arianne resisted the childish temptation to smirk at her knight.

Gendry Baratheon was a comely man, to be sure. His dark hair and blue eyes put him as a Baratheon despite the nature of his birth, but there was something kinder about his face. His stature was muscular and broad and Arianne knew by all means that the bastard of Baratheon could crush a man with one swing of his war hammer but that was where the similarities between his father and himself ended. Mayhaps a few years ago Arianne would have enjoyed his company, would have even considered a marriage alliance. But now it was different. Everything was different. She had her own bastard knight to love. Despite their differences in later life Daemon had risen with an army to overthrow the imposters that had stolen her birthright. Daemon alone had ridden holdfast to hold fast gathering men in her name whilst she wasted away in a cell in the depths of sunspear.

The retinue that followed him were all unfamiliar faces yet Arianne could guess who they were. The young boy could only be his squire, bouncing a little too much in his saddle but face set in a childish determination that amused Arianne. The old man was only recognisable by his shortened fingers. Davos Seaworth, the Castellan of Dragonstone had been hand to two kings, may haps he was now hand to a third. A score of knights rode in behind and then bringing up the rear was a woman she had never met, but whose reputation preceded her. The resemblance Arya Stark had to her late aunt was uncanny. Arianne remembered the day she had met Lyanna Stark. She had arrived on horseback, hooded and furtive along side her uncle Rhaegar. She had spied them talking hurriedly to her father but Arianne had been transfixed by her.  
Like Lyanna, her niece had a harsh beauty. High sharp cheekbones framed her granite eyes that were both calculating and determined, her hair was the shade of dark coffee braided down her back. Even in riding leathers and armed Arianne could tell she had a woman’s figure. There was strength in her though, strength that Arianne knew she did not possess herself. Arya Stark was a warrior before anything else after all. Looking to Gendry Baratheon, Arianne could understand why he had declined so many other women. He may have claimed her Maidenhead but Arianne was sure that Arya Stark had claimed his heart for eternity.

But if Arya Stark was here it meant that her hopes to avoid war would soon be futile. She looked to her hostages and wondered which head she would take first. It would need to be Lord Tarth’s, she was sure of it.

“You have an answer for me My Lord” Arianne announced once the Stormland retinue were seated.

Gendry Baratheon nodded gruffly. “Aye”

Arianne smirked and addressed the Stark directly. “Am I to hang your grace or shall you slit my throat like you did Lord Baelish?”

“My lady?” Baratheon started angrily.

“That is why she has returned from the grave, your wolf King cannot walk, I doubt he can raise a sword, and after being brought up with such honourable ideals I suppose he sends his sister on his behalf as executioner for my treason” Arianne laughed and motioned to Daemon who rose swiftly moving over to Lord Tarth. Good he still knows my thoughts she mused as she continued. “You should know my Lord, my people rose and fought for me, in my name, whilst I was locked in a cell for the better half of two years. They did not break then. They will not break when my body is rotting in the ground. They will fight, unbowed, unbent, unbroken”.

“I’m sure they will” Stark mused her eyes trained on Daemon. “But I am not here on Brandon Stark’s behalf, nor on my sister’s. I am merely counsel for Lord Baratheon, and yourself should you let Gendry give you a fucking answer to your demands.”

Arianne risked her impatience and looked to the Storm Lord. “So what shall it be? Will you be fighting for your crippled boy king, or will you fight with me for independence as it was centuries ago?”

Gendry grimaced. “Neither my Lady”

Arianne felt herself laughing sardonically, within a flash Daemon had his dagger drawn and pressed against Selwyn Tarth’s throat. In the same instance Arya Stark had a bow string pulled tight, an arrow directed at Daemon’s right eye.

“Enough!” Davos Seaworth shouted rising. “My lady order your man to step aside and hear the boy out. You are quick to anger but you might want to hear what he has to say before you shed blood”

The pause was stagnant and then, relenting Arianne gestured for Daemon to drop arms. 

“I gave you two options my Lord and told you the consequences of both courses of action. Yet you decide to ignore me” Arianne spat angrily through gritted teeth.

“Aye. I may not have had a formal education like yourself my lady, but I grew up in flea bottom. I know a shit deal when I see one.” He folded his arms across his broad chest and stared up at the crumbling ruins. “I can’t be a King. I’d be a fool to think I could be. Hells I can barely string a sentence together. Half the lords would support me the other half would curse my bastard birth and revolt. Independence for the Storm Lands is a stupid ideal and it’s not something I would gladly enforce. As for Brandon Stark. Well he all but told me to go fuck myself when I asked for men to counter your armies. My loyalty to that branch of House Stark is nonexistent, as is the loyalty I have for the Queen in the North.” His gaze drifted quickly over Arya Stark and then back to Arianne before he could linger.  
“Do you know who I am loyal to?”

Arianne shook her head, becoming slightly bored by this long winded explanation. 

“Daenerys Targaryen. She gave me my name, gave me everything I needed to make sure that bastards and common folk could have a better life than I did.”

There was a small hiss that went around the ruined hall at the Dragon Queen’s name and Arianne shifted. “Daenerys Targaryen is dead”

“Funny.” Arya muttered, the arrow she had been so prepared to let loose twirling between her fingers. “So was Jon Snow once”

“Rumours” Daemon started. “You northerners, your tales are more oft than not flights of fancy” 

“Not this one lad” Davos muttered his face going dark and Arianne knew there was far more to this than they were letting on.

“Oh how so?” Daemon persisted and unwillingly Arianne leaned forward in her seat. The rumours from the north had always fascinated her.

“Because I was the one who found his dead body, watched it lie there dead for three days until a red priestess cleaned the blacked blood from his body threw some hair into a fire and said some words. I saw the boy rise again after taking seven knives to the heart” He shifted uncomfortably. “Daenerys Stormborn took a knife to the heart as well and my bettings that it’d be in the exact same place as her nephew. He’s an excellent swordsman after all. Not that I saw the body, her dragon took it east before we could get to it. And as for Aegon Targaryen well I’ll say this, he went far too willingly back to a place he hated for my liking. That is until you remember that it’s the wildlings Who man the wall, and it ‘‘twas the wildlings that Jon took all those knives for”

Arianne stretched slightly staring st her opposition, finally her gaze resting on Arya Stark. 

“If Daenerys is alive and has allied with Jon Snow once more why have they not come? It’s been almost five years, they could have taken back what was there’s years ago. It would not have been hard.”

“Because they already have what is rightfully there’s. They had the iron throne and they destroyed it. This is not about their claim to a throne that belonged to the mad king. This about freedom, liberation, this is about breaking the wheel and rebuilding a new world. In order to rebuild, they need to conquer and they will. With Fire and Blood” 

The words that Arya Stark spoke chilled Arianne to the bone and yet it excited her. For so long Arianne had dreamed of change and when she had heard stories from the east about Daenerys Targaryen’s victories for the repressed her then childish mind had envisioned serving under a Queen so magnificent as her. But now. It almost seemed like a scare tactic. As much as she would have been proud to serve under the dragons she could not ignore the stories of King’s Landing. Of the great burning. 

“My lady” Gendry started. “They are coming no matter what. I wish to protect my people as I’m sure you do too. Be on the right side of this war. If you have doubts go yourself, go north beyond the wall. Ask them yourself. They will hear your grievances, they are good people. They will be good rulers. They are the future. They are change. We need this. Westeros is fuelled by betrayal and death. Help us make the world a better place. Our fathers all failed us. Let us not fail our own children.”

Arianne worried her lip and looked to Daeron, she asked him silently what he thought. He gave her one of his looks. It’s up to you. She remembered her fathers words. Our hearts desire. Fire and Blood....

Fire and blood.

“Ser Daemon” Arianne sighed. “Release Lord Baratheon’s banner men. Maester Myles prépare the men to return to sunspear. We shall sail North to the dragons to bend the knee and pledge our loyalty.”

There was a flurry of movement and Baratheon smiled quietly standing and offering his hand. She shook it firmly.

“Ser Davos will accompany you to Sunspear and then North to King Aegon and Queen Daenerys on my behalf” He announces and Arianne paused an eyebrow arching and hand immediately dropping.

Noticing her obvious discontent Arya Stark took her hand and drew her in close. “You have your own ways and reasons to show loyalty to the King and Queen. We have our own and we have a way to go before we can get an audience before them. We shall join you when the time is right” She whispered and Arianne stared at the woman who did resemble her aunt. Silently she nodded and then turned to the old man.   
“It will be a pleasure to travel with you Ser Davos” Arianne smiled. “We must make haste it shall be a long journey I fear” and with that she left the Lord of Storm’s End with his northern girl praying to the seven that she had just made the right decision in trusting them.

 

“Dorne resisted the conquest of dragons before and we can do it again” Lord Dalt bellowed his fist pounding the granite table top. “We should push for independence as was the original plan”

Arianne sighed pinching the bridge of her nose but Ned Dayne beat her to defending her choice.

“Fine” He started smirking. “We follow your plan My Lord. Do let us know how that goes when Daenerys comes with her dragon and reduces all of us to ash”

Dalt snorted. “It’s one woman with one dragon and an army of wildlings lead by a bastard from the north. She may burn our holdfasts but we do what we did during the conquest. We do not bow or break or bend! You heard what she did to King’s Landing. Why would I want the mad king’s daughter as my Queen? What good does it do for me?”

“Good?” Lady Allyrion retorted. “She May have burnt down a city but she also saved the north and the rest of us from certain death, she freed the slaves of the east and they chose her! She brought dragons back to the world and much more! She wishes to change Westeros for the better, I agree with the Princess, we should fight for her and Jon Snow.”

“I will not throw my lot in with Ned Stark’s bastard and his wildling army, he killed Daenerys Targaryen once what is to say he will not do so again! I might have once bent the knee to the dragon queen but if she intends to make that bastard her consort I shall not bend my knees nor my head”

Arianne cursed and looked to Ser Davos who sat at the other end of the table his face most definitely matching hers of exasperation and exhaustion. They shared a meaningful look and Arianne nodded. It was time for some truths. Or at least parts of them.

“You will not be kneeling to a bastard my Lord. You need not fear that.” Arianne muttered and they all turned to her.

“ I will not kneel to a Stark either” Lady Allyrion and Lord Dalt said in unison furiously.

“He is not a Stark. He is not Ned Stark’s bastard. He is Blood of the dragon” She whispered, the weight of Westeros’ biggest secret hanging in the air like death.

The silence rang through the chamber like bells. It was Ned Dayne who spoke first.

“The blood of the dragon?” He asked. “I do not understand my lady”

“He is the legitimate last living son of Prince Rhaegar. Born at the Tower of Joy in the princes pass soon after My uncle fell on the trident. His mother was Lyanna Stark. She bid her brother protect him from Robert. He is Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name. Rightful King of the seven kingdoms. Daenerys has taken him to husband and has given him two heirs a boy and a girl. They rule together. As equals”

Silence met her again and she rose. “I gathered you here out of courtesy my Lords, my ladies. I am not asking you, I am telling you. I am pledging our forces and lands to House Targaryen. I am doing it for Dorne, but most importantly I am doing it for my aunt and her children. The king’s own brother and sister. Together we shall build a better world where children are not slain by cowards and brutes. On the morrow I sail with our naval forces North. Ser Davos and Ser Daemon you shall accompany me a long with Lord Dayne. The rest of you shall hold Dorne. Fortify our borders and any summons from King’s Landing ...respectfully ignore. Wait for my instruction. I am sure you will know when they come and I am also sure that they will not be as polite as they were the last time. I know on good authority that the King and Queen have no time for petty politics. Those with them shall prosper in the new world those against them shall perish. There is no in between. There is no waiting out the storm to see who wins. They do. No matter the cost. Are we all in agreement?”

They all rose to their feet and nodded their ascent. 

As they filtered out the room Arianne slumped back in her chair pulling the circlet of gold from her hair and rubbing her temples.

“You did well” Ser Davos said rounding the table to sit beside her. “ Very few I know can get a room full of lickspittles like that”

Arianne felt herself chuckle. “It was still four hours of discussion I did not need. I now understand why my father internalised his plans”

Davos chuckled “well it’s a long journey north. You can rest then”

“I’ve rested enough my Lord” Arianne sighed standing. “I’ve spent my life at rest, now I must work. I must apologise in advance I will question you day and night about our monarchs.”

Davos scoffed “I can only tell you what I know. I am not one to speculate and I have not seen them in years. I am sure they are a changed man and woman especially after all they have been through”

“Yes” Arianne mused reaching for a slice of blood orange left over on the platter of food. “But you’ve seen them both at their best and their worst. You’ve seen both sides of their coins”

The old man sighed flexing his left hand unconsciously it seemed. “Aye. Everyone will underestimate the King I think. They have all seen what Daenerys can do. But I have seen a darkness in that boy that I don’t want to see again. I think given the right reasons his ire and wrath could be as terrible as his grandfathers”

Arianne grimaced.”Then I must prove my loyalty to be unwavering and perpetual.”

Davos raised an eyebrow. “How shall you do that? Forgive me my lady but armies are one thing, loyalty is an entirely different thing”

Arianna smiles and rose offering her arm to the old knight. “I am glad you asked Ser. Let me show you my loyalty”

She led him through the palace, alight with movement as the preparations were being finalised but as they descended the spiral stairs into the depths of Sunspear the noise and commotion lessened until they had reached her desired destination.

“In Winterfell I am told they have crypts” Arianne began. “For every winter king and Lord?”

“Aye my lady they do” He consented as they paused to stare at the first tombe.

“We traditionally burn our dead on small boats pushed out to sea. In accordance with Nymeria, when she burnt he ships. But there are two we did not burn. My father you Ser could not bare to burn his sister’s body. And as for the second, well she was not ours to burn. The prince of Dorne st the time saw her as a trophy. So he did not burn her body as was customary with her own people.”

She gestured first to Elia’s tombe. A stone effigy of Elia stood before them, a small girl standing to her left, hand in hand with her mother, and a babe at her breast. Stone vipers wrapped up her ankles and upon her head a simple crown of suns and flames.  
“My aunt Elia, the Queen that never was”

She moved on tugging at the old mans arm until they stood before the second statue. 

“They say Aegon the dragon loved his Queen Rhaenys above anything else. It is written what he did to Dorne after she died. Two years of burning. Two years of dragon fire. Now here we stand 300 years later and I wonder after what you said about Aegon the sixths ire what he has in store for the seven kingdoms after what we did to his love, to his Queen. I fear his ancestors actions will pale in comparison”

She knelt before the statue and pushed aside the front panel of worn marble. Drawing out a box she dusted off the cobwebs revealing the three headed dragon engraved in obsidian.

“My father always said that these would have be given to my cousins.Aegon and his sister Queen Rhaenys. But I think they are best suited for the last Targaryens. Some say Aegon made Rhaenys’ crown with his own hands. Now his blood builds an army for his own Queen. I am always fascinated how history shows itself in the present.”

She lifted the lid and looked up to the onion Knight. “You ask how I shall prove my loyalty?”

Davos at the sight Arianne presented to him gasped. “By the gods are those?”

Arianne looked at the circlets of Valyrian steel and rubies gleaming in the candlelight “Yes. What better gift to give the King and Queen of the new Targaryen dynasty than the crowns of the founders of the old Targaryen dynasty.”


	17. Samwell - His best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand maester receives unsettling news

Samwell

His best friend

 

Sam groaned as he made his way through the keep, his back aching from the weight of the books and scrolls he held clumsily in his arms. It was ironic that the castle where the wheel chair bound King resided in was so full of stairs. He often found himself silently regretting that Daenerys Stormborn had not reduced the red keep to the very foundations. At least then they could have had a keep with one floor and no stairs. 

Tyrion was the only one in the small council chamber, his face scrunched in exhaustion, his hand moving furiously over a parchment.

“Grand Maester” He muttered as Sam dumped the books unceremoniously on the polished wood.

“My Lord Hand, how goes the King this morning, will he be joining us?”

Tyrion paused. “No, his grace is uh enjoying the gardens once again.”

Sam but his lip and they shared a look. The King had been “enjoying the garden” for two moons now. He very rarely made court, instead choosing to sit amoungst the saplings they had planted, his eyes milky white as he descended into a place that they could not see. He returned to them but twice a day to eat, sparingly sharing a strange comment. It was getting hard to cover up and the whispers had already started up in the keep, and according to Gilly had spread across the city.

“It needs to stop” Sam whispered. “The people are talking.”

Tyrion sighed stretching back in his seat. “He says he knows the people are talking. He says he knows everything and he needn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep.” Sam could not mistake the bitterness in the dwarfs voice.

“Even still” Sam contradicted. “We need to keep him in the public eye for appearances sake. I was thinking mayhaps a progress? It’s been short of five years and the people have not seen their king”

“I agree but I doubt we can convince him. He may be all seeing but he is still a man who cannot walk. I don’t think he wants the embarrassment. There would be so many areas of the kingdoms he could not reach. The Vale for one , at least not in a dignified way. Then there’s the small issue that Dorne is in rebellion and the Storm Lands, well we’re still unsure how they settle. The reach would probably revolt, and as for the westerlands well they aren’t too content with a Stark ruling the south as well as the North” Tyrion let out a bark of a laugh grinning like a mad man. “So a tour of the Riverlands then?”

Sam sighed. “I see your point” Anger suddenly bubbles and he reached for Tyrion’s goblet draining it in one, grateful for the taste of wine upon his tongue.

“I thought we had made the right decision” He muttered. 

“We did” Tyrion argued. “What other choice did we have?”

Sam shrugged. “Jon. He would have been a great king. He was a great King”

Tyrion shook his head. “He didn’t want it, the unsullied wanted him dead, the Dothraki wanted his dragged through the streets. Even if they didn’t get to him I am sure he would have taken his own life.”

“Yet we believe he’s north raising an army, using his birthright as the last Targaryen to take back the the seven kingdoms” 

The thought was so unsettling to Sam, that his friend would soon be his enemy, that he rarely let himself think on it.

Tyrion sighed. “If we start thinking about what could have been we are as spineless as the lords before us. We made our choice now we must live with it.”

“And yet you chose Daenerys Targaryen once. You believed it to be the right choice and look what happened” Sam said angrily.

Tyrion glared at him. “You don’t think I know that? I live with that every day. Every damned day Tarly. I chose a woman I believed in and she betrayed me. She destroyed a city, she killed my siblings among thousands of others and then I had her killed. We chose a King who we knew would be good. So he doesn’t attend small council meetings or holds court , but is he cruel? No! Has he committed mass genocide? No! The kingdoms may be in shreds but at least they are not dying or starving. I will take that over anyone else”

They were interrupted by quick footsteps and suddenly Bronn rounded the corner, Podrick quick on his heels.

“We have a problem” Bronn grunted scraping back a chair and flopping into it.

“If it’s more complaints from the reach I don’t want to hear it” Tyrion sighed but Bronn’s face was set in a grim line.

“No. One of my scouts rode in from Duskendale do you know what they saw?”

They stared blankly and Bronn huffed angrily.

“Ships...Dornish ships to be precise. Three hundred of them”

Tyrion swore loudly. “Have they landed?”

Bronn only laughed. “Has power dumbed your wits Lannister? Of course they haven’t fucking landed. They were sailing north, my scout followed them all the way up to Rooks rest.”

Sams stomach turned and he felt sweat trickling down the back of his neck. “B-but that doesn’t necessarily-“

“Seven hells are your wits gone too Tarly? I’ll put it simply. The dornish are mad fuckers. Mad fuckers who like to side with fucking dragons. The mad fuckers have somehow found out that the son of the last fucking dragon is in fact the Lord Commander of the nights watch, who might I remind you is fucking ruthless and best of all unmarried. The Princess is unmarried. If she goes north with an army she’ll return with not only a King but also a man who can fly on a fucking dragon. To summize we are fucked.”

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably and Sam fidgeted nervously. Bronn started between them.

“So? What the fuck are we going to do about this?” Bronn snapped impatiently. 

“Do you think he’d do it?” Tyrion asked. It took a minute for Samwell to realise that dwarf was addressing him.

“Bran’s his brother” Sam started but paused when Bronn snorted. “He was raised as his brother” he persisted. “I can’t imagine that he would wish any harm on him. But...the rest of us. He was lied to his whole life and then when the world knew we pushed him to do something so unforgivable and yet so necessary. We effectively exiled him. It would drive any man to anger, and he’s the blood of the dragon. He may want revenge for that but knowing Jon” he paused and took a breath. “He loved her, more than any other woman. He may not ever forgive himself, he certainly won’t forgive us for it. We betrayed Daenerys as much as he did. It may give him peace knowing he avenged her. In truth my Lords I do not know. He is a strong man, and you’re right he is ruthless. An excellent warrior and effective strategist. He was given a good education and knows these lands ... especially the north. I am almost certain that should he invade he will take the North first. No one stands a chance against him in the North. Not even the Queen, not with the Dornish by his side and certainly not if he has Drogon”

“Then we know what we must do” A voice Interrupted and they all turned. The King had joined them. Dressed in his simple blue tunic, his auburn hair seemed unkempt, his darker beard was wispy , and beneath his eyes were dark circles. He could have been a man of fifty in that moment Samwell reflected.  
“Lord Tyrion you must go north in person to treat with him.”

“Me your grace?” Tyrion stammered. 

Bran stared intently at him. “Of course. He listens to you. Remind him of his duty, go via Winterfell, bid my sister the Queen accompany you. Mayhaps she can find some arrangement for him, to appease his needs. Ser Brienne and Ser Podrick shall accompany you”

It seemed Tyrion wanted to argue, to tell the King that he was not the right man, that taking his best kings guard was foolish. But he did not instead he swallowed and nodded.

“As you wish your grace”

“My King” Sam interrupted. “Might it be best for myself to accompany Lord Tryion and Ser Podrick to remain here?”

Bran transfixed him with a stare of innocent confusion and yet it made Sam’s skin crawl. 

“ I’ve been North of the wall, I know Jon, I can find out what he wants, he’s my best friend”

“He was once your best friend as I was once his brother” Brandon muttered. “But times have changed and I need you here with me. You must tell me all you know of my cousin, his strengths, his weaknesses-“

“Don’t you know this already your grace” Sam asked feeling even more unsettled than before.

A darkness crossed the kings face. “I am afraid Grand Maester, I have not known my cousin for a very long time”

It was as if the dead had returned, the statement was so chilling Sam knew it would haunt his dreams for years.


	18. Gendry - Of waves and wanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry remembers why he hates ships

Gendry

Of waves and wanderings

Gendry hated boats. No matter how big or how small. Gendry hated boats and yet here he was yet again on a boat, sailing to somewhere he did not know. He hated the roll of the waves, the smell of stale salt that crusted on his clothes, hated the feeling of never being truly clean, and sleeping seemed to be impossible, even in the bed that had been provided for him.

He spent his time brooding in the galley, a bucket never too far from him, the past few days his stomach had been churning so violently he hadn’t been able to stomach any more than hardened oak cakes. 

It didn’t seem like a long way. Storm’s End to Pentos, then again Dragonstone to Duskendale wasn’t supposed to take long and yet he had rowed for a fortnight. They had been at sea for a fortnight and according to the map they still had at least three weeks to go. He groaned as the ship created yet another wave and his stomach heaved.

The door banged open and Em sauntered in carrying a small clay cup. “My Lord” he grinned at took the seat opposite him.

“What is it Em” Gendry grunted his fists clenched over the waves of nausea that were threatening to overwhelm him.

The boy grinned again and pushed the cup towards him. “Rey made a remedy to cure you of your sea sickness”

Gendry grimaced looking down into the cup. It’s contents reminded him of the mud that used to wash up on the docks of king’s Landing. 

“I’m not sea sick Em, I’m just -“

“He also said that you should sit above deck”

“Since when was Rey a maester” Gendry snapped pushing the cup away. “I’m perfectly fine”

But he wasn’t and in that moment his stomach turned, emptying it’s contents into his bucket. Gendry swore as his wiped his mouth of vomit.

“Well Lady Arya said it worked wonders on her, said Rey had a real talent for medicines”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “I bet she fucking did”  
He disliked Rey greatly. Mostly because of selfish reasons, he said very little, but of what he did say, the majority was undermining. He sauntered around whispering in Arya’s ear and they spent many nights in secluded corners whispering god knows what. He had tried to quell his jealousy yet he couldn’t, every where he saw Arya, Rey was beside her and it made his blood boil.

Em shrugged. “Fine act like an ass, I’m going to play Cyvasse, Ser Andrew owes me a rematch.”

“Mind your fucking language Em” Gendry barked and the boy stood quickly.

“Mind your fucking language my Lord, and drink the medicine, you are being intolerable” He all but ran from the galley and Gendry sighed. Where had he even learnt the word intolerable? His squire was correct though, he was being intolerable and selfish. Stupid bull, he thought and taking the cup he drained it gagging slightly at the fermented taste.

Unfortunately, Rey, the slimy git...was right. His stomach settled almost immediately. Cursing under his breath he stood and made his way above deck.

Sure enough Em was sitting cross legged his brow furrowed over a cyvasse board, Ser Andrew Estermont on the other side grinning jovially. 

The Estermonts were of his blood on Roberts mother’s side and had been one of the first families to swear fealty to him. The Lord of Greenstone was an elderly man and had grumbled constantly warning Gendry not to be a drunken sot like his father, or a heretic like his uncle Stannis, whilst the women of house Estermont had gushed constantly at having Aunt Cassana’s grandson in his rightful place.

“He’s Robert!” They had sang. “As tall and as strong and as handsome”

Gendry had shown his distaste in the praises they sung for his father and for his uncles. In his mind one was a pig, one a murderer and the last a fool and he saw no pride in being their issue. Only Ser Andrew had understood.

“There’s no point telling you all the good your sire did my Lord” He had muttered once. “You know how far his love reached for you. He was a fool, stubborn and angry often, drunk more times than not. A brute of a man. Lyanna Stark was well rid of him and I told him as much” He had gestured his chipped teeth. “Broke them in as soon as I uttered the words. Aye lad you may look like him but all Baratheons look the same. Big dark and blue eyed, no surprise there. There is little of the true Robert in you thank the gods”

The clanging of swords rang out over the crash of waves over and over and Gendry could see Casper Wylde sparring furiously against Arya. She danced out of his reach again and again matching his forceful blows with quick measured thrusts. Despite his stature Wylde was losing and he knew it. 

“Seven blessings my Lord, how fares your stomach?” Bonifer Hasty grinned up at him and gestured to the bench where he and Rey were watching the fight. 

“Fine, thank you Ser” Gendry mumbled and took a seat.

“You must drink once a day” Rey cited his eyes trained on Arya slashing through the air. “ You have a weak stomach and there is far to go”.

Gendry gnashes his teeth. I’ll give you a weak stomach you twat. He thought imagining happily swinging his hammer into the mans stomach. It was as prettier picture as Arya Stark flipping Casper to the ground, boot on his throat a wild grin stretched across her face.

He clapped and Ser Bonifer cheered and Gendry met her gaze as she pulled Wylde up to his feet.

“Well met my lady” Wylde boomed happily and then went on to listen to Arya as she pointed out Wylde’s weaknesses.

“Tell me my Lord, where did she acquire such a queer little sword?” Ser Bonifer asked leaning forward.

“The King had it forged for her at Winterfell when she was a girl of nine.” Gendry replied at once. She had told him the story at Harrenhal years ago. He was surprised he still remembered this fact.

“Blessed seven what an odd thing to have made for her, I wonder why-“

“She didn’t want to be a lady” Gendry continued not taking his eyes of her. “Jon knew it as much as Eddard Stark, but Jon has always believed that should a woman be good enough then she should train. Arya wasn’t the only woman who fought at Winterfell, but we would be gone without her. I will forever thank his grace for giving her that little sword”

“She has put it to use then?” Bonifer whispered quietly now.

“Aye amoungst other things. Do not be fooled by her kind face or small stature, she’s as much as a ruthless killer as any of us”

“Oh I don’t doubt my Lord, and the King’s favourite sibling at that, why must we travel east then, surely his grace will be pleased to see his foster sister?”

“I said she was the King’s favourite, not the Queen’s and we serve them both” Gendry stated flatly. 

“Ah...i see” Bonifer smiled wistfully. “I quite understand, the Queen’s of house Targaryen have always been hard to please. It is a lonely life I fear. Even the conqueror’s Queens were overshadowed by their brothers achievements. This is great pressure in being a Queen to a Targaryen King. They have birthed saviours and monsters alike and more oft than not have had to live with their children’s choices”

Gendry frowned. “You speak about it as if from experience Ser”

Bonifer raised his eyebrows, his face twisting in surprise. “But you do not know? Forgive me my Lord it is why I thought you asked me to accompany you on this voyage.”

“What don’t I know? Have you met the Queen?”

“Daenerys?” He shook his head “no, but I did know her mother. Queen Rhaella of house Targaryen, the first of her name was a fine woman. Beautiful and kind and strong and wilful in her youth.”

“What happened?” Gendry asked watching as the knight’s face paled and water swam in his eyes.

“Her grand sire, King Aegon commanded that she fulfil a prophecy and marry her brother. As soon as she heard she came to me, begging me to take her far away, to marry her in front of any Septon, or any gods tree, even the fire priests.....I refused, she was too young for all of that and I was scared. She was the dragon’s daughter, not the dragon’s son. Her protection would only stretch so far.”

“She can’t have taken that well.” Gendry muttered.

“No. She cried and raged and then Ser Duncan and Ser Barristan came to take her away. Kicking and screaming at first. But then after a few words from the Lord Commander she went willingly enough.” Bonifer sighed clenching the tears in his eyes. “I hung up my lance and turned to the faith. I vowed I would have no other woman ever. I had failed the only woman I had ever loved, I would not fail others”

“And the Queen?”

A look of pure fury crossed his face. “There are few alive who knew the extent of her abuse. The ones I have spoken with have said it was akin to the black brides of Maegor the cruel. Some say worse. All I know is that the strength and passion and happiness was beaten out of her in perpetuity. She died alone, a broken woman.”

Bile rose in Gendry’s throat and he closed his eyes. He knew the type of abuse that Daenerys’ mother would have received. He had seen it happen to the whores that had raised him, had seen it happen to his own mother. But he had been there to defend them, Gendry doubted somehow that anyone had been there to save Rhaella Targaryen.

“Her daughter is a strong woman. The strength that your Queen had, flows true in her daughter’s veins, if that can be of any consolation to you Ser” Gendry muttered placing a hand on the old man’s back.

“Her daughter has dragons. So did the Targaryen Queens on old. No king dared lay a hand on their Queen when she rode a dragon. The fear ran deep, the respect was strong. When the dragon’s died so did the fear and the respect.” The knight stood and rose, his mind was evidently elsewhere and Gendry drew his mind to Arya who was cursing in rapid bravosi as Wylde seemed to miss a step in her rigorous routine of....whatever she was teaching him.

“Speak the common tongue woman!” Wylde roared but Arya simply sacked him on the head and snarled.

“Get it right bafoon”

“Oi” Gendry barked smirking. “That’s my Lord your beating. Why dont you pick on someone your own size my lady”

Her grin almost sent him backwards over board.  
“Because then I wouldn’t get to beat anyone, my Lord” but she shrugged. “Go Wylde, I wish to spar with your liege”

Wylde smirked and thrust his sword back into its sheath and sauntered off. Gendry drew his sword and took his stance smirking.

“Are you sure my Lady? I wouldn’t want to hurt you” He taunted knowing full well she could bring him to his knees but enjoying her bubbling anger all the same.

She pounced faster than he could blink, her skinny blade clashing against his own and Gendry cursed internally as he stepped around her offense. He matched each blow huffing as he concentrated.

She was fast, faster than before, but Gendry was stronger. He swung with as much force as he would use his hammer and needle was sent spinning across the deck as she cursed loudly. Dropping his own sword he crouched taking her middle into his shoulder and flipped her swiftly beneath her, his forewarn pressed across her shoulders. Their faces were so close he could make out the darker flecks in her grey eyes, the curve in her lush lips and the small spatter of freckles across her nose. He loosened his grip bringing his hand to cup her face, but before he could lean in to capture her lips, her knee planted its self in his stomach and suddenly she was above him, one hand around his throat, the other a dagger in hand placed dangerously close to his groin.

“I could geld you here and now” she hissed in his ear, but Gendry could only chuckle, his free hand moving boldly up the back of her leather clad thigh and over the round of her arse pulling her closer so that she was flush against him.

“You could...but where’s the fun in that....Lady Stark”.

Her breath hitched and Gendry felt the blade clatter between his legs and she stood up swiftly.

“A clear winner” Rey proclaimed grimly “you were weak Baratheon. She took away your strength”

Gendry felt his happiness dissipate quicker than dying wind and he snarled as he stood up.

“ I didn’t ask your opinion” He huffed shoving past him.

Twat

 

He supped alone in his cabin, his brow furrowed as he read the history of the dance of dragons. Even now after knowing how to read properly, the words were still slow to form in his mind and he oft found himself muttering under his breath.

“R-har-naye-ra had commanded-“

“That’s not how you say her name” A voice said startling him out of his wits. He jumped out his chair sending both supper and book flying to see Arya leaning against the door

“How in FUCK did you get in here” He exclaimed loudly standing and pointing at her.

She smirked and folded her arms. “Your door was open”

He shook his head and reached for his mug of ale. “Nope...pretty sure the door was locked” 

“Not to me it wasn’t” she muttered.

“What do you want” He muttered gulping the ale down.

“That’s not how you say her name. It’s pronounced Ray-neer-a. The H is silent. A and E together make AY and N and Y followed by an R make neer, like tear or fear.”

Gendry scowled squinting at the letters. “Fear doesn’t have a Y in it” he grumbled.

“No” Arya conceded perching on the edge of the bed. “But it is what it sounds like”

“It’s stupid” Gendry argued and she smiled softly.

“No, just hard”.

He huffed and gestured to the door. “Don’t you have someone better to bother, your friend perhaps, he seems to like spending time with you” the bitterness in his voice was evident, the jealousy clearer than day but Gendry didn’t care. He had spent weeks cooped up with the git.

“He’s not my friend Gendry” She whispered. “An acquaintance at best. Not like you. You’re my friend”

Gendry felt the anger rise rapidly and he snarled impatiently as he closed the distance between them. He towered over her, hands in fists clasped above him on the canopy. “Friend...is that all I am to you, a friend” He leered and she stared back in defiance but her face broke her teeth worried her lower lip.

She sighed reaching up her fingertips grazing his jaw. “No...you’re much more than that...you’re family”

“Then why aren’t you my wife? Why did you say no...why did you leave?” The last word came out cracked and broken. Gendry willed the tears not to come but the years of sadness and loneliness, the hurt and rejection seemed to overwhelm him.

“I don’t know” Arya whispered her eyes glazed. “I was stupid”

Unwillingly he smiled. “You were.” He clasped her hand in his. “But you’re not stupid now, you’re here with me. Just be with me please Arya. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted . Not the titles or the lands or the clothes, just you only you. Please be with me. Forget about everything for once...just be with me.”

The warrior seemed to melt away before him, and the woman appeared. More lovely and beautiful than anything he had dreamed and she was kissing him. Not in hurried earnest mashing that had been akin to those in Winterfell. Her lips were soft, tender and Gendry knew he was home. She was home. Not Storm’s End. Home was Arya and nothing would ever change that.

He pushed her back up the bed, his lips trailing across her cheek to her earlobe and down her neck. Her moan was like the break of sunrise and Gendry could feel his cock harden against his breeches. He sighed contently as she wrapped her legs around his waist grinding her hips against his. He chuckled pulling up slightly to look in her eyes.

“I told you there was no fun in gelding me” he muttered and she grinned.

“I suppose having you whole has many uses”

He kissed her passionately and suddenly both were struggling with ties and buckled, trying desperately to rid each other of the stiff leathers that bound them.

“You never used to wear such difficult clothing” He growled flipping her on her stomach fingers pulling through the strings of her leather corset.

“I didn’t have need for them then” she laughed and shrugged off her jerkin her hands pushing his own off his shoulders and in one deft movement she had his shirt crumpled on the floor. She smirked her right hand trailed across his chest. 

“And you do now?” Gendry muttered, his hands pulling out the pins that kept her hair twisted on her head. She nodded pulling away to stand. She kicked off her boots and then with a slight visible tremble she pulled her shirt above her head. 

Gendry could remember clearly the first time she had done that. How surprised he had been at the angry red scars that slashed across the torso. Even now faded and pink Gendry still winced slightly, but her body had changed. Her waist was smaller. Her breasts were fuller, he had not thought it possible for her beauty to increase but standing there in that tiny cabin with naught but breeches, Gendry knew that he had the most beautiful woman in the world.

He sat and pulled his boots off and then brought his hands to her arse, pulling her between his legs. He kissed the scar which ran deepest across her stomach and then took a hardened nipple into his mouth. He sighed as Arya moaned her fingers running through his hair. With his other hand he clumsily unlaced her breeches pushing them down to her knees roughly, his teeth biting gently at her nipple. He felt her kicking off her boots, shuffling her leathers down to her ankles and then finally she was bare before him and he pulled back to stare at her. The scars carried on further the last reaching the dark thatch of curls which sat neatly atop her cunt. Her hips had widened since he last saw her, her arse rounder yet still firm, her things still taught from all her training. Her hair curled loosely over her breasts. He could drown in this sight and would not trying to keep himself afloat. 

“Beautiful” he muttered, hands running up the back of her thighs to squeeze her buttocks bringing her close to him.   
“Your crazy” she smirked breathlessly. Her fingers clawed his scalp bending his neck back so she could capture his lips and Gendry moaned slightly as she pushed him back on the bed, her right hand massaging his groin where behind his own breeches his cock throbbed hot and hard. Her fingers moved to unlace his breeches but he stopped her. If she did that he would lose himself within seconds.

“No” he commanded, his hand enveloping her wrist. “It’s about time we do this my way Lady Stark”

Before she could protest he had pulled her up so that both knees either side of his head and took his tongue to her glistening folds. 

“Gendry” she protested and then moaned loudly. “More”

He obeyed, his tongue probing her entrance taking in the tart nectar that dropped from her and swirling it over her clit. Her hips began to rock against his jaw and he delved in further lapping up her juices and applying enough pressure. Soon enough she was screaming his name and Gendry took his cue. One arm wrapped around her hips pulling her down firmly onto his face, the other hand reached up taking a nipple between two fingers and pinching hard. With a loud scream Gendry felt her walls flutter against his tongue and giving one last lick up past her click she fell sideways onto the pillows, her chest heaving as she panted his name.

“Get your fucking clothes off Baratheon and come here” she whispered, her grey eyes shining with lust. Gendry smirked and pushed his breeches off and onto the floor. He smirked as his wiped his mouth of her juices.

“Is that a command Lady Stark?” He whispered and she scowled.

“Don’t call me that, not in here”

“As you wish m’lady” He smiled and crawled between her legs, open and inviting, the remnants of her orgasm still slick on her thighs. She took his cock in her left hand and pumped twice and Gendry groaned his head dropping down by her neck as she positioned him at her entrance. With one swift movement he was inside her warm impossibly tight core. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he thrust hard, their lips clumsily met as their hips ground against each other. 

“Arya” he moaned which each thrust the pace increasing. He was so close he felt the pull in his naval and he began to withdraw but her hand clenched st his arse.

“No it’s fine” she whispered. “Please”

He kissed her, grunting as he felt his release, hit seed burning itself in her core and in his euphoria he glimpsed her round with child beaming up at him. But he put the dream away as he held onto the real Arya feeling her walls clench around his cock as she buried her face into his chest.

Panting he rolled off her. His head was spinning and the grin had not left his face. Beside him Arya rolled onto her side her arm wrapping across his chest.

“I’ve missed you” She whispered and Gendry drew her in closer kissing her head.

“Aye me too Arry” He whispered. She propped herself up to look him in the face. It was a sight that Gendry wanted to see every day. Gleaming grey eyes, her dark hair a tangle of curls and a smile on her face.

“I told you I’d come back” 

Gendry threw his head back against the pillows and barked out a laugh. “I never doubted you”

She hummed skeptically but Gendry grinned pulling the furs over the top of them. “Be good if you’d come alone though.” He muttered.

Arya rolled her eyes and whacked him lightly on the chest. “I’m alone in here. It’s just me and you. Unless your hiding a woman under the bed”

“Oh yes sorry” He stretched his head mockingly. “Lynda you can come up now”

She laughed her whole frame rumbling. “Lynda? One of your many women?”

His heart sank almost immediately . “My mother actually”

Her face fell, her teeth chewing her lip. “I’m sorry...I -“

“You didn’t know” he whispered.

She shook her head “No but had I stayed I might have”

He smiled sadly pulling her on top of him. His rough hand stoking down her back and pausing at a strange jutted scar frowning he gazed in her eyes, a thousand questions swam in his mind but all he could muster was “Aye...so stay now. There’s so much to talk about”.

As she opened her mouth to reply he thought that maybe he might start to like boats.

If he was with Arya Stark.


	19. Ruari Glover - The Queen’s husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News reaches the north and the Queen’s husband reflects of what it is to be a pawn in a much larger game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some of the imagery in this chapter is graphic.
> 
> (Ruari Glover does not exist in the show or the book, but he does in this story and will have quite the role to play. His name is pronounced Rory, but I have taken the old Scottish spelling of the name because you know...Thrones. He is a year older than Sansa in this story. Also like many other characters in this story Alys Karstark is still very much alive and very much hand of the Queen. Remember Sansa grew up in a southern Court, I imagine her own court to be similar to that in King’s Landing)

)

 

Ruari Glover

The Queen’s husband

The flickering of fire behind his lids woke him once again and he swore under his breath as he stretched in the empty bed staring sleepily through the open door into his solar. His wife’s solar. The Queen’s solar. His solar was in a different wing and it took precisely 10 minutes to get there. Not that he cared, he rarely used it anyway. His wife on the other hand seemed to be forever bolted to her desk. Even now in the middle of the night she sat fully dressed pouring over scrolls, her right eyebrow arched skeptically, her posture forever upright. The silver crown perched perfectly on her head. She’d wear it in bed if she could. He thought bitterly and then smirked to himself, but of course she had worn it once or twice in bed, but not as she slept.

Sansa of House Stark the first of her name had been Queen for near five years and had been Ruari’s wife for nearly as long. It had been a match of allegiance and fealty. His father had not sent House Glover’s troops to Winterfell for the battle of the dawn for the reason that Jon Snow had bent the knee to the dragon Queen. Once it was all done, the raven had arrived, and then the escort. Robett Glover was ridden to Winterfell in all but chains and all Ruari and his family could do was wait. They had waited for a fortnight until finally his father had returned, head intact but with half of the lands that they had once owned and a proposal from the Queen.

Just like that he was to be wed. To the Queen in the North. “So I am to be a hostage” he had grunted at his father as he had packed his belongings furiously.

“You are to be the Queen’s husband, a King in all but name. It is the greatest honour that has ever been bestowed on our family and count yourself lucky that that was the Queen’s demand”

“You refused the call father not I. Why must I be punished for something you did.”

“This is no punishment lad” His father had sighed. “She’s a good woman, kind and beautiful, she will be a good wife”

“Aye im sure she will be and I shall be used as a pawn in her game. Should you fail her again it will be my head she takes first, am I right?”

His father had sighed rubbing his face once over with his hand. “You’re not wrong but... “

Ruari remembered the roar he had emitted but his father had quelled his rage.

“But! Listen to me lad, if you get this right and I mean really right it will be a good life. Your sons will sit the throne, and she is a good woman. She rules with an iron fist, and her heart may be icy but there is kindness and honour there. Treat her well, she will appreciate that and prove your worth.”

So he had gone to Winterfell and had stood in the hall before the Queen as she had surveyed him with an icy glare wordless and regal until finally she had given a short nod and said “you’ll do”.

He hadn’t seen her again for near a fortnight, taking to roaming the ancient fortress and seeing the damage that the battle had done. He trained in the yard and more than once had felt that icy glare on his back but when he had turned his bride to be had seemingly vanished into the stonework. He had sought her out after weeks of frustration beneath the gods tree.

“Do you take me for a fool your grace? Or am I simply a cock to give you heirs?” He had almost shouted in the stillness of the dissipating winter.

Sansa Stark had turned, her eyebrow arched in what Ruari would soon know a true expression of distaste.

“I do not think you are a fool, but I would be lying if I said your cock,as you so crassly put it, is not useful to me.” Her voice had been quiet as she had traced a gloved finger in the snow. 

Ruari has growled his impatience but she had sighed. “Two of my brothers have been King of the North and both lost their crowns to women, neither have left issue so it has fallen to me to not only secure the northern independence, but to continue my house. I am a slow learner Ruari, but I do learn. I secured this marriage yes so I could ensure that your father never betrays me again, but also to continue my line and ensure that when I do die I have sons and grandsons ready to take my place. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” There had been tears in her eyes when she had said that and there was something in her expression that had made him stay. 

“My parents did not marry for love” she had continued. “But it grew on them, I am not asking for you to love me my Lord, but I do hope that we may to come to respect and care for one another”

They had married three months later beneath that very weirwood. They still weren’t by any means in love but they were friendly enough to one another. The Queen had worked tirelessly with her newly appointed hand Alys Karstark on the preparations for the wedding and Ruari had helped where he could. Mainly he ensured that the castle and godswood were rebuilt accordingly. When he had asked Sansa who was to give her away however a distraught expression had crossed her face. 

“I had wished it to be Jon” she had whispered her fingers toying with the chain around her neck. “But I am told he does not think it appropriate that he is present at the ceremony”

Ruari had drawn her in for a hug. “Is there anything I can do? Mayhaps I could ride to castle black ask him to come down, even just for the ceremony? It’s been six moons, the North forgives him for his crimes, they respect what he did.”

Sansa had shook her head. “No once Jon’s mind is set on something he does not change it. Bran is coming and my uncle Edmure shall stand in place of my father”

So he had. The Lord of the Riverlands had lead his niece up the aisle with tears of pride in his eyes, as Brandon Stark had looked on passively from his chair. They had exchanged their vows, she had donned his cloak and they had feasted merrily in the hall. They had shared a few dances and Tully had risen to give what he called a heartfelt speech on the pride and good fortune he wished upon his niece the Queen. In Ruari’s mind it sounded like pretentious southron horse shite. Halfway through the feast his father had clapped a hand on his shoulder and had said stonily,

“She is no maid, nor is she wanton, just prepare yourself. That bastard of Bolton broke her in badly so there’s not to be a bedding ceremony as such. It’s not my place to tell you what state your wife is in, but prepare yourself my boy and treat her right”

His father had been right. He had escorted Sansa quietly to their chambers, there had been no laughing or japing, only silence until she had turned to him. “I am not a maid-“

“I know” he had answered quietly. “I know that you have not had an easy life, nor did your previous husband....well in truth my lady I only wish I had been there to see that bastard be ripped to shreds, but alas I wasn’t and here we are.”

“Here we are” She had whispered and her fingers had reached for her silk dress and Ruari knew that behind her cold expression ghosts haunted her memories so he had shook his head.

“I must do my duty aye, as a husband, but should you not wish it my Queen I will not press myself on you”

But she had shook her head. “No I will not lie to my people nor will I embarrass you my Lord.”

So he had watched as she had removed her gown, piece by piece until she stood bare before him. It had been glorious and terrible in pair. Her body beautiful and awful all at once. Not an inch of skin between breast and knee was left untouched. Ivory lashes wrapped like vines about her thighs, the hair above her cunt was unable to grow due to the flayed man sigil of house Bolton branded into the skin, and that wasn’t the only place where it was branded. Thrice on her stomach, once atop her breast over her heart. Her back was uneven due to the lashings she must have received long ago, and the most unnerving were the teeth marks. Human teeth marks curved in crescents on the inner thighs and lower belly. It had taken Ruari all of his strength not to look away, nor put his fist through the table. He had blinked back tears of fury as he had disrobed and had taken her gently, ever so gently in his arms and had placed a light kiss upon her trembling lips.

They had not spoken, she simple nodded at him and he got on it with as much care as possible. He had kissed her as passionately as he was able, had moved his hands about her body trying to ignore the uneven skin and when finally he had buried his cock within her he had thanked the old gods that at least there was some desire there. He had spilled his seed after a while and as soon as he had she had gently pushed him away and had retreated under the sheets away from the scrutiny. He had cleaned himself and had joined her and had been grateful when she had laid her head upon his chest.

“One day” she had whispered before sleep had taken them both. “Not tomorrow nor mayhaps the week after but one day I would like it if you could show me how to enjoy it.” 

He had eventually showed her how to enjoy their coupling but not until after the birth of their first child. Theon has been born just as the sun had risen on the new year, screaming and kicking much to the pleasure of his mother who upon seeing their sons thatch of dark hair and grey eyes had proclaimed him to be a true Stark. The law had been decreed that all heirs male or female of the Queens body would be named Stark and although it hurt Ruari deeply that his own children would not take his name he accepted, after being harshly reminded that he may be the father, but he was firstly husband to the Queen and as Lady Karstark had said in front of the entire court “that great honour should be enough for his grace, he needn’t worry himself about Her Majesty’s heirs. “

Their respect for one another was as strong as the iron fist of which his wife ruled her kingdom. Their love making frequented after Theon’s birth and even more after the news of an expectant second child. Ruari’s promise had rung true and he enjoyed his wife more oft than not despite her stubbornness or her damned sense of entitlement.

But it was the birth of Catelyn which had brought words of love to their marriage. As they had sat together weeping over the girls dark hair and blue eyes Sansa had looked up at him and had uttered the words, tears running from her eyes. “I never thought I would have this. No one has ever given me this, I am overcome with happiness. I never thought I could care as much as I do for you, I never thought I could be as happy as I am when I am with you and most of all I never thought I would be able to ever love a man as I love you Ruari”

He had smiled at her genuinely, the words had set a lump in his throat and he had hugged his wife and daughter and had whispered in her ear. “I shall love you until the day I die, and even after that.”

Pulling himself from retrospect Ruari groaned and rose from the bed, padding bare foot and bare arsed out of the room and into the solar.

“I thought the idea was to have more children” He grumbled standing in all his glory before her.

She hummed in agreement not looking up. 

“So how is that supposed to happen if you are in here dressed in a thousand layers...or am I supposed to will my seed in you by some godly act.” He pressed on angrily

His wife snorted derisively and looked up, completely impassive to his state of nudity. “No, but I have received important news, I simply needed time to think how I must act.”

“Can it not wait till morning love?” Ruari sighed. 

“No it certainly cannot” she snapped. “If you dress I will tell you.”

He swore, disappearing to wrap a robe around his shoulders and returned, collapsing down in the chair by the fire. He spread his arms, raised his eyebrow and waited for the Queen to tell him what the fuck was going on.

“The reason I am still awake is because I received two ravens. The first was from Lord Maderley, Here” She offered the first to him and he scanned it quickly frowning.

“Aye, 500 dornish ships sailing north, what of it? They haven’t invaded?”

Sansa shook her head.”No they have not”

“So what is the problem?”

Silently she handed him the second scroll and Ruari read the words. “This makes no fucking sense. What have the dornish, dragons and the Lord Commander of the nights watch have to do with each other?”

He saw the trepidation in his wife’s face. “Sansa what don’t I know, what aren’t you telling me?”

She huffed and shifted in her seat. “The dornish, dragons and Jon have everything to do with each other because ...Jon Snow wasn’t born as Jon Snow. He wasn’t even born in the North. He was born in a tower in Dorne as the legitimate son of my Aunt Lyanna Stark and her ...husband Rhaegar Targaryen the prince of Dragonstone.” 

The words hung heavy as Ruari tried to digest the words. He remembered the odd tale he was told as a boy, he remembered meeting the bastard of Winterfell once when they had been young. He had the Stark look to be sure, but he had always heard the stories of his late good father’s honour and somehow in his child’s mind nothing had ever made sense. That was until now.

“Fuck” he muttered. 

“My father promised my aunt on her death bed that he would protect Jon from Robert Baratheon. His real name, I believe, is Aegon Targaryen-“

“Wait” Ruari interrupted holding up a hand. “Hang on a moment, if your brother is the rightful heir to the iron throne, making him the King of the seven kingdoms, then why is he at the wall? He killed Daenerys Targaryen aye, but it meant he won? Why did you send him to the wall?”

A pained expression crossed her face and she sighed. “He didn’t want it and we thought after everything it was safer for him to be away from it all, that it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask him to take that mantle”

Ruari nodded, he understood of course, there was only so much duty a man could handle but still not everything was settling with him correctly. 

“So what of the Dornish, how do they come into play?”

Sansa sighed. “Arianne Martell has been rebelling for almost two years. She wants independence for Dorne, she claims she did not choose to bow to wolves. House Martell bowed only to dragons,and shall either be ruled by dragons or she’ll rule herself”

“And now she’s found out about Jon and has gone to see if he’ll press his claim?”

Sansa nodded. “She’s unmarried and the cousin to his half brother and sister. Should they wed not only would it give Jon a good standing in the south but also it would right the wrongs of his father in setting Princess Elia aside. With the Dornish he’d have a better chance at winning-“

“Not just the Dornish” Ruari added. “Your brother mentions the dragon, does he have it? Does he have...what was its name?”

“Drogon? I’m not sure, if he does...well it would be bad. He’s ridden a dragon before, and with Daenerys dead, I suppose there’s nothing stopping him controlling this one”

“Why would he want to Invade though? You said he didn’t want it, I doubt some Dornish Princess would change his mind, plus he’s the Lord Commander of the nights watch, it’s in their vows, they wear no crowns, they take no wives.”

Sansa stood and began to pace. “Brandon doesn’t think he’s at castle black, believes that he may be with the wildlings, he considers them his people and I think they consider him their king at least, he was the one who protected them when no one else would”

“But what would give him cause to invade? What would give him cause to start a war?”

“Oh I think he could find a reason” She whispered, her face pulled taut and haunted. “And I would be the one to know about it first, you see I broke my word to him. He told me not to tell a soul about who he really was and I broke my oath beneath the weirwood tree”

Ruari’s heart hammered in his chest at her confession. “That’s” he paused trying to find the words.

“I was right to I suppose” she continued not looking at him. “I didn’t trust her, I was right to tell Tyrion about Jon, look at what she did”

“Sansa, fuck..” He closed his eyes, his head was pounding and fear was seeping into his joints. He loved his wife he truly did and she was a good Queen for the North but there were times he knew and understood that she had been brought up in a southern court, where words were wind and oaths as strong as shattered glass. To break a holy oath to a man like Jon, a man with that amount of power at his fingertips. It was bad. “What do we do?” He asked after a bout of silence.

She moved to stand behind him, her hands buried beneath the neck of his robe. “We go North, Lord Tyrion will be here within the month on behalf of my brother. We go with him to castle black and if needs must we go beyond the wall and I talk to my brother. I’ll beg if I must, he can leave the nights watch, can even go to Dorne if he takes a liking to the Martell woman, I would not begrudge him of that.”

He reached up to hold her hand in his. “And if that is not enough?”

The Queen sighed and he felt a teardrop splash on his head. “Then we shall go to war. The north is independent and I rule as her Queen, my son will rule after me. We will never kneel to Targaryens again. We will form a temporary alliance with Brandon and the south and we shall go to war. The north and my children are more important than the love I once had for my brother.”

“Aye, and I will lead your armies in your name and fight for as long as I must to ensure that my Queen, but remember, if Aegon Targaryen is pressing his claim and going to war then he is doing it by setting aside his mother’s blood. He is pressing his claim on the seven kingdoms that were once his grandfather’s” Ruari took a shaking breath. “We’ve already seen what the mad king’s daughter did with one dragon, I wonder what the Mad King’s grandson will do with that same dragon.”


	20. Jon- The serpent, The Stag and the Smuggler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s dreams have returned

Jon 

The serpent, The Stag and The Smuggler

In his dreams he was riding a dragon. Or was he the dragon? He was uncertain on the specifics. Beneath him Icy mountains turned to hills, turned to moors and then to forests and fields. He was going south. His wings stretched and soared for what seemed hours as he took in the goings on below. In a great castle a woman and a man spoke in wary whispers over two scrolls of parchment. In a marsh’s boat house an old man sat curled like a child muttering to himself rocking back and forth, in the west two children slept peacefully their hands clasped over a golden lion. A darkness as thick and heavy as smoke loomed ahead and Jon swerved left rolling with the wind soaring over an empty fortress which sang with the dying screams of dragons long forgotten. He pushed on through the dark night until finally he came to land in the ruins of a palace. The vines and moss seemed to grow as he trudged the dirt and ash and his ears pricked as music filled his ears. It was a song that he had known once long ago, or had heard sung. The dragon he had ridden had disappeared into the ruins and in its place a man. He sat on a low wall, a small silver harp between his fingers, humming to himself. Jon stared at the man his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The man did not look up and yet Jon knew who he was. He recognised the bridge of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the line of his lips, His brow furrowed as Jon’s did and Jon sucked in a breath. For the first time in his life he laid eyes on his father. As if Rhaegar could read his mind he turned to face him, laying his harp down, yet the music played on.

“It is amazing what different colouring can do to the appearance” His hand reached up and grasped Jon face, his dark violet eyes searching. “My son”

“This is a dream” Jon muttered looking down at his feet. “It’s all in my head. You’re dead, you never knew me. Only my mother. This isn’t real”

Rhaegar chuckled and stepped back. “All correct statements accept the last. As long as this happens in your head, it is real”

“Where are we?” Jon asked moving to sit on a moss covered stone.

“The place of my birth. Summerhall. In my life I frequented this place often. It always helped me contemplate my choices”

Impatience bubbled in Jon’s chest. “Your choices? Your choices led a country to war, both of your wives died, your children died, your parents died, thousands died because you chose my mother”

Rhaegar shut his eyes, a pained expression crossed his face. “I know. Your mother and I,we were too ambitious, too arrogant to believe that it wouldn’t work. We did not know true loss, we were arrogant enough to believe that it would be us who would destroy the three eyed raven and rebuild the Targaryen dynasty. Your mother was gifted in her sight, I had fulfilled the prophecy from the lord of light. We were fools. But you already know that”

Jon nodded. “I don’t believe in prophecies, they’ve done too much damage to good people. I don’t fully believe in the gods, but part of me has to because something brought Daenerys and I back from the other side. I know that I need to end this war. To end the three eyed raven I need to unite the seven kingdoms and to do that I’m going to have to cross lines that I would not have thought I could before.”

“Strength can be terrible” Rhaegar smiled. “But you’ve been told that before. You have always had a good measure on your self control. Eddard Stark ensured that you would, with all his lessons on honour and dignity and for that i am grateful to him but he repressed your true nature. You understand what must be done, and who you must be to destroy the three eyed raven”.

Jon nodded sternly. “Aye and trust me, I know I am capable of doing it . My duty has become something of a joke within the realm. I am tired of it. They might call me mad. I do not care. They are blind to the bonds that are around their necks. I will build a better world for my children and for Daenerys. It is what they deserve”

Rhaegar smiled and moved to sit beside him.”There are not many men who are as devoted as you are to Daenerys. Not even Jaehaerys the conciliator loved Alysanne as much as you love Daenerys-“

“I’m not Jaehaerys, nor am I you, or Aegon the first.” Jon said almost childishly. “I’m me. I do not make comparisons because I cannot. Words cannot describe the way I feel for her. Killing her broke me.”

His father’s hand reached for his shoulder almost tentatively. “I know. It is why she was brought back. I am sure of it.”

Around them the air began to move and Jon could hear beasts prowling. “They’re closing in. It is almost time. The news is spreading, the world whispers about the return of the dragon’s wrath. You know who you are enemies are”

Out of the darkness a wolf with auburn fur slinked towards them teeth bared with blood on its back perched a falcon with a broken wing as it cawed the air was filled with smoke.

“You should also know who your allies are. Befriend the serpent, the stag, the smuggler and trust the faceless wanderer, for she seeks redemption.”

As he spoke the beasts made them selves known, the serpent wrapping itself round his right hand, the stag poured at the ashen ground and a grey wolf pounced on the auburn ripping its jugular letting the blood pool at Jon’s feet. His father reached down to the blood, coated his fingers and wiped it across Jon’s chest. The blood gathered at each scar and once again Jon could feel the bite of steel.

“It’s time for you to become the man I could never be. It’s time for you to be the King. The most respected and feared King this world has ever seen. Let go of your self control, accept it. The Queen brings you a fury as hot as the fire her sons breath. Match it with blood.”

He stood and brought the harp to his fingers but before he began to play he paused. “Please know Jon, I am very proud of everything you have done and everything you will do. It is maybe ... not my place to say, my role as your father ended when I consummated my marriage to your mother, even still... I am proud”.

He woke to a small finger prodding his cheek and he cracked his eye open to see his daughter standing by his bedside her violet eyes glinting with glee. Groaning he stretched out his arms and brought Lyanna squealing into his chest.

“Good morning Princess” he mumbled hoarsely nuzzling his nose into her mass of dark curls. 

“Good morning papa” she sang happily her little arms stretching across his chest.

“What are you doing up so early hm? Where’s your brother?”

“We’ve been watching the ships” She sighed.

Jon frowned closing his eyes to tiredness. “Which ships Anna? Have you been down to the yard again? I’ve told you, you are not aloud down there without me or mama”

She shook her head and beside him Dany stirred, her legs moving under the furs to intertwine with his.

“No papa not the ships from the yard, the one from the sea!”

Jon hummed sleepily and then his daughter’s words pierced his dulled mind.

He sat up slightly. “Ships from the sea? Are you sure Anna?”

“Yes papa Ghosty saw them first, he told me when i was sleeping so I went outside and watched them with Dae”

Lyanna’s connection with ghost was akin to his own and Jon knew she would not lie if ghost had seen ships, but the images of his dream disturbed him.“How many ships Anna? How many could you see?”

Her face scrunched in concentration. “Ten...I think”

“And what colour are the sails Anna can you remember?”

“They were lellow, with suns, they were very pretty those sails”

Before she could say anymore Jon was up and out of bed wrenching open the door to the balcony. He could hear Lyanna giggling.

“Papa your naked!”

He paid her no mind as his eyes set on more than one hundred ships coming into dock. His heart pounded in his chest as he remembered the fragmented visions of his dream. Befriend the serpent, the stag and the smuggler. 

Hands pushed a cloak over his shoulders and Daenerys rested her head against his shoulder.

“It appears we have some visitors” Jon muttered pressing his lips to her temple.

“Friend or foe?” Dany whispered, her voice void of emotion.

Jon turned and looked back at their daughter surrounded in furs sitting in the middle of their bed. 

It is time for you to be the King

“I suppose we will have to make that judgement together” He whispered and Daenerys nodded.

“Together”


	21. Davos - Kill the Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos arrives

Davos

Kill the boy

It had taken close to two moons to reach the fjord that the maps indicated. It had been the toughest sailing Davos had ever encountered. They had been hit by three storms, abd then there was the fortnight between the fingers and white harbour where the sea had lay flat as glass. Once they had sailed past the remnants of Eastwatch great ice blocks had barred their ways until finally the ships had steered port side between two towering cliffs as black as coal.

Davos had ensured that they had stopped along the way. He would not leave for war without telling his wife, it was the one of the few things he and Arianne Martel agreed on. So they had paused for two days on Dragonstone, the fortress that Davos had agreed to tend to, what with there being a lack of dragon lords to take up residence. He himself did not live in the castle. Instead he and his family had taken up residence in the gatehouse on the south side of the island. Two towers bridged with the large iron wrought gate which led to the castle beyond. 

When he had stepped through the door he had received a wack over the head with a poker as Marya had screeched. “And by the sevens where the fuck do you think you are heading off to now?”

He had cowered at his tiny wife, swearing loudly as he he wrestled the poker out of her hands. “Gods woman will you let a man speak?”

“Only if he speaks quick” she had spat and had stepped away hands on her hips, her chocolate eyes glaring daggers. 

So Davos had explained where he would be going, what he would be doing, who he would be bending his knee to. All the whilst his wife had remained silent, the only indication of her dissent, the purse of her lips.

Once he had finished she had huffed. “I see. Well you’ll have to go and get the boys, and give us time to pack too minds, it will be a long trip north and I don’t-“

“What? Marya you can’t....you can’t come” Davos had implored.

“And why in seven hells not? No do not answer that Davos, answer me this, how many years have we been married?”

“Thirty five years”

“Thirty five fucking years, and pray tell me how many of those years have you been away?”

Davos had sighed and mentally counted the years finally muttering “nine and ten”

“Aye, nineteen fucking years and I am sick of it. I am sick of you going off to fight someone else’s war. You went to war for Stannis, put a crown on his head and it never stuck, then you fought for Jon Snow and the crown you put on his head never stuck, and now you want to try again. So I best come with you to make sure it does stick. Because gods help you if it doesn’t, I will take your stupid head myself. If this Jon snow and his Queen are the monarchs we are throwing our lot behind, I will be there to see you do it. Don’t think I don’t know how this game works. The boys are of age and the King needs men it seems, and young men seem to forget that elder men are getting slow and tired, so I best be there to remind the king when he puts a sword in your hand and you give our last two remaining boys to another King”

“Jon Snow is a good man-“ davos had tried but Marya had slammed her fist down on the table with so much force the butter dish spring off and shattered on the flagstone floor.

“I don’t care if he’s the father above! I shall make that judgement to see if my boys are worthy of him, do you understand me?”

So Marya has boarded the ship, with their sons in tow.

Arianne Martell whilst had not warmed to Ser Davos, had certainly taken a liking to Marya, and they were oft found playing cards and muttering about men into the small hours of the night. Thrice she had offered Stannis’ hand in marriage to Arianne. 

“He needs a strong woman to guide him and by gods is she strong, and witty and pretty to look at.”

The Princess however had declined politely amounting that she was far too old for Stannis and had her own plans for her marriage, eyeing not so secretly her broody sworn shield. Davos had chosen to steer well clear of those conversations, preferring the company of his youngest son.

At six and ten Steffon had long grown out of the boyish ways he had had but Davos still loved the way his eyes glinted in awe as He had spoken of the dragon’s that his son might or might not see. 

He stood on the deck breathing in the biting air, his eyes trained on the still grey water as they made their way between the silent cliffs. The morning mist had risen to mix with the grey cloud above and a light snow was falling. Arya had told them they would find a settlement, but had been unclear on the details of the location and what to look for. But it seemed that Davos didn’t have to look too hard. Far above him he heard that all too familiar beat of wings, and although the dragon was masked in mist, the screech that emitted from it was just as terrifying as it had been the first time Davos had encountered the beast.

Arianne emerged from the deck, her hooded head pointed to the sky. “They say” she called over the screeching. “That he is larger than the black dread!”

“I would not know Princess, but I can attest to his size”

“Well it seems he has lead us to them” The dornish woman pointed ahead as they round a final cliff and Davos felt the breath be knocked from his lungs.

This was no settlement. This was a small city. Nestled beneath the horseshoe of black cliffs, hundreds of well built houses and huts grew up from the shore. All had stone foundations, nestled into the granite sand and mud. The houses closer to the shore stood on stilts and the port itself was large enough to have fifty ships docked at any time. A top the cliffs lay high wooden walls, separated every fifty yards by a watch tower. Davos knew immediately that the settlement had been build to withstand an attack by land and sea. Glancing up either side of them he saw figures maybe three hundred or so either side of the water, standing in alcoves in the cliffs, clad in grey and black furs, almost invisible in the dull morning light, their bow strings were pulled tight and all arrows were pointing at their party.

“Have we come to the right place?” Arianne whispered, her eyes glancing over the archers.

“Aye, we’ve found em” he pointed his shortened hand at the base of the cliff facing them, where the sigil of house Targaryen was draped, larger than a wheel house, the ruby three headed dragon fluttering slightly in the breeze. Below it sat a long house which seemed to protrude from the rock and stood taller than any other building. It was no palace, but it was large, large enough for a King and Queen. Large enough to plan an invasion.

As the dingy bumped into the harbour a roar sounded from the staring free folk. They parted as a giant of a man stormed through, his blue eyes alight with mirth, his ginger beard twitching as he grinned.

“Onion knight!” He growled, hoisting Davos from his seat onto the jetty. 

“Tormund Giantsbane” Davos coughed as the wildling clapped him on the back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked smiling. Davos noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes, which were farting around furtively taking in Davos’ party.

“We’ve come to swear fealty to the King and Queen”

Tormund hissed involuntarily his hands clenching on his axe handle. “How do you know there is a Queen”

The mood immediately dropped and Davos could feel the sinister tension, thinking quickly he said . “You honestly think I would believe that a blade to the heart would stop Daenerys Targaryen?”

“They’ll burn you alive if this is a trap you and all your boats, you do understand that don’t you onion knight”

“That” Arianne interrupted smoothing her skirts as she found her footing on the salted wood. “Would be a mistake, as all of our boats are gifts of alliance for the King and Queen”

“Who are you?” Tormund asked suspiciously.

“Arianne Martell, the princess of Dorne” she replied proudly but Tormund stared blankly at her.

“She’s from the south” Davos explained quickly . “As far south in Westeros as you can go. Princess this is Tormund Giantsbane he is the-“

“Hand of the King” Tormund finished stabbing at the wrought iron badge on his chest.

Davis paused confused, he knew Tormund to be a loyal man but he had never expected... “I thought the free folk do not kneel”

A steely look crossed the wildling face and he growled quietly. “We do for him, and for her. We kneel but once, we kneel for them. They are the King and Queen we choose”

“Good, take us to them so that we may kneel for we choose them also” Arianne said drawing herself up to her fullest height.

Tormund took a step back and surveyed them and then looking to the two men either side of them he gave a sharp nod.

“You will leave your weapons with Kari, they will be returned to you when their majesties command it”

Daemon Sand made to say something but Arianne laid a gloved hand on his shoulder and shook her head. “A sword will not help you against dragon’s Ser Daemon, give it up”

Davos handed his own sword over and then fell into step beside Tormund. “What is this place, was it here before?”

“No. There was nothing here before. We built it from the dirt up. Welcome to Aemon’s Port”

Davos stared around taking in more detail of the town. Out of every window hung the three headed dragon. It was carved into doors and even children ran about them waving flags. It was more peaceful than King’s Landing. Even the infrastructure was better, more thought out.

“Each house can hold a family of up to six. Those without families live in the log houses” he pointed down a street at several larger buildings, each with one single door and a window above it. “Children from age four to nine are taught numbers and letters. At age nine the children are then taught history and laws. At age twelve they can choose, they can either help with the building, the boats or the borders. All boys and girls are trained how to fight and at aged fifteen they are expected to train with the army.” He pointed to a courtyard where a score of older boys and girls were sparring with sticks.

“It seems very well thought out. Do you have trade?”

Tormund shook his head “No, the King and Queen have not wanted to draw attention to themselves. There is a mine a few leagues to the north. We mine coal, we have found some diamonds there as well. There is good land to the south which we farm and there is plenty of fish. Each family gets a joint of meat, a basket of fish and enough grain to last them a fortnight. In return they work and train. Every single man and woman over the age of four and ten is able to fight well. They are skilled in bow and arrow, axe and sword.”

Davos raised his eyebrows. Impressive was an understatement. “It seems you have made quite a life here. Everyone is happy? Even knowing that soon they shall be going to war”

Tormund chuckled. “We have been ready for war for almost five years Davos. We crave it, we want revenge as much as our king and Queen do. They have needed time”

“I understand that. So you’ve been here? All along?”

“Aye, Jon arrived at the wall, we left the next day. We rode for a month and then settled here. The Queen arrived shortly after, gave birth the night she arrived to the Princess”

“Gave birth?” Davis exclaimed his mind spinning. “She was pregnant when she arrived?”

Tormund nodded grimly. “But that would mean that she was already pregnant when he - when she”

“Yes. They both were brought back. Mother and babe.”

Davos let out a low whistle. “By the gods, and she was, Daenerys was...she was alright with it all?”

Tormund laughed cruelly. “Of course not. He explained to her why he had done it, she understood, but it took a while for her to accept it. Just as it took a while for him to accept what she had done in King’s Landing. There was a time when we were worried. The only thing that kept them together was the babe. But then something changed, I don’t know what it was and I have never asked, it was like a switch. They were apart and then they were together and that was that. I think they know they are strongest when they are together.”

It was a fact that he had known for many years. But no one had listened to him then. He doubted the lords to the south would listen now. 

“So what do they do?”

Tormund shrugged. “They help. The build, the farm and fish, they plan, they teach the little ones history and law, The Queen trains every day, they ride their dragons and spend time with their children”

“Dragons? I thought there was just the one dragon now”

Tormund shook his head. “No the green one came back. Do not ask me how I do not know. But he is the King’s dragon now, they fly well together.”

Of that he did not doubt and sure enough searching the skies he could see two shadows circling Aemon’s Port and a thrill rushed through him. Two dragons. The last dragons. 

Two guards stood either side of the heavy wooden door, ornately carved with yet another ithree headed dragon of House Targaryen. They nodded at Tormund as they let the door swing inwards and Davos clenched his fists taking a breath.

The change in Jon Snow was notably different. His once shoulder length hair now sat cropped just below the ears and slicked back under a band of steel that rested on his brow. Davos had never seen him wear a crown and yet it seemed he was born to wear one. His beard was darker but closely cropped to his face, his grey eyes were cold and calculated and when their gazes met Davis shivered involuntarily. This man was not Jon Snow. He was far more sinister than the boy he had met atop the wall or even the man who had taken Winterfell. Any inch of his northern heritage was gone. Even his attire attested to such. Gone were the greys, blues and brown leathers of house Stark. Any shred of his former life was now replaced with the dark colours of his father’s house, a black leather jerkin, with scaling detail up the sleeves inlaid with blood red stitching, the black fur across his shoulders was held in place with a thick silver chain. He sat in a simple high backed throne of polished wood which was joined to its twin by a single arm rest. Of course the last two Targaryens would sit the same throne. 

Death it seemed had made Daenerys Targaryen impossibly more beautiful. Time had not aged her, and even though Davos knew she was no more than seven and twenty she could still be a maid of fifteen. Her appearance was less changed. Her silver hair was still intricately braided and curled around her shoulders. She wore a dress of light grey but the sleeves seemed to have been dipped in blood, the red hue bleeding up to the elbows. Black fur shrouded her small shoulders held together by a similar chain as the King’s. Around her neck was bound a silk red scarf making the only flesh visible her face and hands. On her head sat an identical crown to the King’s inlaid with glittering black stones and in the centre a diamond the size of a quails egg. 

“Ser Davos, the years have not been kind” Daenerys called, her voice as clear and cutting as glass. The Queen did not smile warmly at him as she once used to.

“I’m sure they haven’t your grace, I am an old man”

“Yes and you have travelled quite the way to get here I imagine, you are very far from home” Her violet eyes seemed to pierce his soul and Davos held his ground. “Why are you here?”

“I am here on behalf of Lord Gendry Baratheon, the Lord of Stormlands. On his behalf I offer the fealty of the Stormlands. They are yours to command, they are yours to rule and we pledge our forces to your cause”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow unimpressed. “Lord Baratheon sends an emissary. Is he sick?”

Davos gulped. “No your grace-“

“So why is he not here?”

Davos sighed rubbing his temple and glanced quickly at Arianne who stood smirking. He remembered their heated conversation only days before 

“ it is your responsibility to tell them why Gendry is not with us , not mine , onion knight”

He sighed. Well there was no point lying about it.

“He is travelling your grace. He will come here when he is able”

Daenerys scoffed, rolling her eyes with impatience. “Travelling? He believes that his travels are more important than-“

“He’s going East your grace. To gather men in your name. We have brought you Dorne and the Stormlands but we cannot give you the other kingdoms, you have an army of freefolk and two dragons but you need more than that to do what you need to do. To take back the seven kingdoms you need the largest army the world has ever seen. To defeat the three eyed raven you need your armies back by your side. You need the Unsullied, the Dothraki, the second sons and you need the priests of fire”

Her scornful expression fell from her face and she turned to the King fear evident on her face.

“And you think Lord Baratheon can convince them to come here? To not only fight for the Queen but to fight for me... her killer?” Davos looked to Jon, his fist was clenched tightly around Dany’s hand.

“Yes, he once earned their respect, he forged them weapons I am sure they still carry today, he fought by their sides at the battle of Winterfell and he knows he is only a Lord by the good grace of her Majesty Queen Daenerys. He is loyal to you, that was proven as soon as he found out that you were still alive and with Jon”

Daenerys eyes narrowed slightly. “And how did he find out I was alive? How did he find out where we are and what we are planning?”

Davos rocked on his heels staring at the two of them. Tormund was right, together they were powerful. Powerful and Dangerous. The honourable man and the just woman were a dream of the past. Before him sat only fire and blood, but he was unsure which was which. Or maybe they were both?

“Arya Stark”

The name was like a match to wildfire. Both monarch’s faces distorted. Jon into pure rage, Daenerys a dangerous snarl.

“Arya Stark is dead” Jon muttered. “Her ship washed up on the shores of Bear Island three years ago.”

“Her ship yes, and her crew but not her, she almost died. The three eyed raven got in her head and she almost took her own life, but she survived, washed up on the shores of some unknown place west of Westeros and spent three years doing who knows what.”

Daenerys leant forward her violet eyes flashing dangerously.

“You mean to say Arya Stark Who has spent her life avenging her dead family came back from her little adventure and implored Gendry Baratheon to pledge fealty to House Targaryen. Need I remind you that her sister not only betrayed me but her own cousin to cling to power, and her brother not only foresaw my downfall but worked actively against me to ensure it, including the deaths of my son, my most loyal knight and my closest friend”

Davos nodded. “Aye i know, and she understands that when she comes before you both, you have every right to execute her, she only hopes that by sending us your way and going to fetch your armies you might show an ounce of mercy. I am not here to apologise on her behalf, but I would note that when we offered to notify her family that she was alive she refused. “

If the Queen was surprised, she did not show it. Instead she turned to Jon and they shared yet another look before sighing she turned back and nodded her assent. “It is brave what she has done. We won’t be executing her, but I cannot say the same for my Dothraki or my unsullied. They will see her only as the sister to their Queen’s murderer, who trained with the best assassins in the world.”

Davis sighed. “She knows the risks, it is why Gendry went with her”.

Jon sighed frustratedly and surveyed Davos with a strange expression.

“What about you Ser Davos Seaworth? You come here as an emissary to a Baratheon. Where does your loyalty lie?”

Davos frowned his heart beating very fast and it took all his strength not to wipe his brow of sweat.

“With you your grace” he whispered but Jon stood and walked down the three steps that separated them.

“Once perhaps. But I’m no longer the man you knew Ser Davos. Jon Snow died at the wall any honour and sense of duty with him. I did the right thing, I brought seven kingdoms together to fight the dead and they repaid me with betrayal, deceit and lies” He stood inched from Davos and searched his face.

“Do you know why I called this place Aemon’s Port?”

Davis shook his head and the young man grinned grimly. “A part from Daenerys, Aemon Targaryen is the only other member of my family that I ever knew. I did not know whether he knew who I truly was but I think some part of him understood. He gave me two pieces of advise that I carry with me to this very day.”

He sighed and looked back to Daenerys who watched his every move. “Love is the death of duty” He smiled at the Queen and it was the sweetest and most sincere smile he had ever seen. “Tyrion Lannister once try to flip those words on me, but it’s no use. The love I have for this woman and the children she has bore me is stronger than anything in this world. I would gladly watch the world burn if it meant that they were safe and happy.”

Davos gulped “I don’t doubt that your grace”

Jon let out a small laugh. “The second piece of advise he gave me, he also gave to his brother Aegon the fifth of his name shortly before he became King. Kill the boy he said. Kill the boy and let the man be born....and so. I. Have. -

He took a breath and then began speaking, the speech did not sound rehearsed, it sounded almost like a confession.

“The plans i have for the seven kingdoms immediate future are not pleasant. They are not pretty political words and deals. They are fire and blood. 

If you are truly loyal then you understand that I will take you once more Into war and it will be terrible. Men, women and children will die and their blood will be on our hands. I will tear cities asunder, i will burn castles to their foundations and run the rivers red with blood. The Queen and I have been betrayed, we have been set aside, we have been chained in the bonds of duty. But I will tell you this. It is my duty to liberate the people of Westeros, and to achieve this there can only be fire and blood. 

“I am their King, Daenerys their Queen. There is no other choice. If they are for us then they shall prosper” He paused, the smile upon his face was fixed, it was mesmerising. It was terrible.

“If they are against us then they shall perish. I will no longer stand for spineless lickspittle Lords and ladies who’s loyalties lie with the wind. You win or you die in this game and we have already died Ser Davos.” His hand fisted at his chest in the place Davos knew had been where the final blade that had ended his life.

“From here we can only win. And we will win. I will fight dirty, without honour, without gallantry. I have waded through blood for the woman beside me. I will do the same for the people of Westeros. I will bring this country to their knees only to bring them back to their feet on new soil, to make them see that it is not I who wishes to control them. I wish to free them, I am the son of the last dragon, the blood that runs in my veins ran in Aegon the conqueror and I will rule the seven kingdoms with Queen Daenerys by my side. We shall rule together. Always together. And once it is done, once we have reduced this country to its foundations we shall rebuild. My foundations must be fire and blood, ash and ruin but from darkness comes only light. We shall rebuild a world where a man is not parted from his wife for years because his liege insists he fight in other people’s wars. A world where women are not seen as inferior because they are born women. A world where girls are not sold,bought and raped by the highest bidder to further her father’s standing in his kingdom, a world where little boys do not know the meaning of taking a mans life until they are indeed men and have been trained to do so. The poor will be housed, the young properly educated and the rich will still be able to live as they wish, if they can pay for it. Their fineries will be taxed, their lands sanctioned until they can prove to us that they are of worth. They must prove that they are good honest people who can govern our people in our stead effectively under our laws. No more lying. No more betrayal. We will not have it any other way.”

Jon turned and resumed his throne, his dark eyes fixated on Davos as he digested the words he had just heard. They were bad, they were good. It was true what they said. Every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip and coin and the world holds it breath to see how it would land. Davos knew this was incorrect. Aegon Targaryen’s coin had indeed been tossed but it hadn’t landed on either greatness or madness. It was spinning through the air for eternity. His vision was greatness, his vision was madness.

“If you are loyal to me, that is what you will get, if you don’t want that, then we shall allow you and your family to leave this place unharmed. Find somewhere to make your home” He paused his face darkening, his voice went dangerously quiet. “But pray I never find you. Our new world cannot be home to lords who are still loyal to the old one”

The room was silent and Davos looked to his shortened hand. Fire and Blood and then peace. Peace. A new world.

“You have nothing to fear. I am by your side, now and always”

He sunk to one knee and bowed his head to the King and Queen.

The King and Queen he chose. 

He would choose them over anyone else.

Madness. Greatness.

Madness killed the boy. Greatness would bore the man.


	22. Jon - The Dragon’s Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorne proves it’s worth

Jon

The dragon’s children

His chest heaved as he motioned for Davos to rise. His head was spinning, the blood rushing through his ears. The fury inside him was euphoric, the vengeance he felt an addiction and in that moment he knew the answer to the questions that Tyrion Lannister had asked him so long ago. 

“Would you have done it? You’ve had that power, you’ve been up there on a dragon’s back, would you have burnt the city down?”

The answer was Yes. In that moment he would have burnt King’s Landing to the floor. It would always be yes. He was a dragon after all...

The words he had just spoken, he had never before said allowed. Not even to Daenerys. He had promised to avenge her. Yes. To bring vengeance to their enemies. Of course. But he had never divulged his true plans for the seven kingdoms. Not like that. Not to inspire fear, not to inspire loyalty. Yet here he was, sitting on a throne he had designed himself, with a crown a top his head of his own design, above a loyal friend, his lust for power moving him forward, forever pushing on. 

A warm hand stilled his shaking one and he turned to Dany briefly and was calmed instantly by the pride emanating from her amethyst eyes. Never before had they been so connected as they were in that moment. This is all she had wanted from him all those years ago in the ruins of their ancestral home. This side of him that went unchecked and untamed. Gods why had it taken him so long to realise it?

When she broke their eye contact that all too familiar Queenly façade washed over her and she smiled to their guests.

“And what of Dorne?” Her question was directed at the second party in the hall. “When I laid my claim in the last war, a Prince Of Dorne swore his fealty to House Targaryen, are you that Prince my Lord?”

She looked to the man clad in armour who can’t have been much older than they were. He stepped forward dipping his head.

“No your grace, I am but the bastard of Godsgrace. May I present to you Arianne of House Martell, Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear”

The woman beside him stepped forward lowering her hood, revealing her long dark curls adorned with a circlet of bronze suns, she smiled as she curtseyed before them.

“I have waited a very long time to meet you both.”

“And the Prince Of Dorne? Forgive me my Lady I mean not to offend you but I am rather confused.” Daenerys continued a hint of impatience evident in her tone.

“The Prince Of Dorne” Arianne laughed derisively. “An imposter, posing as my younger brother Quentin Martell but of course you would know-“

Daenerys sucked in a breath. “I saw your brother die. Forgive me Arianne I am sorry for your loss, but he was foolish to believe he could tame my sons”

The dornish woman clasped her hands together and smiled grimly. “We are in agreement. I am not sure truly of what the imposter was trying to achieve. Your downfall I am certain. He was in correspondence with the Spider after all and of course-“ her gaze lingered on Jon. “Sansa Stark”

Jon stiffened the fire within him igniting once more. His wife’s hand reached for him once more and her touch was a soothing balm.

“But I assume you dealt with this pretender?” Dany continued seemingly ignoring the woman’s name and Ariane nodded gesturing to the knight beside her.

“Thanks to my sworn shield, he led the dornish against him and freed me from my captivity where upon I assumed my father’s seat and declared independence for Dorne. This was of course before I knew that you were alive your grace.” Her dark eyes met Jon’s and smiled a venomous smile. 

“We do not bow to wolves, certainly not ones who have been raised by Lannisters or to those advised by Lannisters. There is only one Stark that we have ever agreed to bow to and that is only because my aunt commanded it.”

Jon stared at her nonplused. He knew the Dornish had respect for his uncle, but they did not make Eddard Stark King.

“But you do not know?” Arianne asked a hint of surprised laced into her southern accent. She let out a harsh laugh. “Did you honestly think Elia of House Martell, the Princess of Dragonstone would let her husband dishonour her like that?”

“There is nothing to suggest otherwise my lady” Daenerys voiced. “My brother was a good man, but he was dishonourable to set aside your aunt the way he did.”

“But you have it all wrong! Your brother was a good man, a very good man, he was never going to pursue his desire for Lyanna Stark. It was Elia that suggested the idea in the first place!” She began to wring her hands. “Your majesties my aunt was a sickly woman, after the birth of her son the maester told her that she would die. She had developed a growth in her womb that was slowly eating away at her. After the birth of Aegon she was told she would die within the year. The seven kingdoms were in turmoil, your father was growing ever madder and a coup was under play to put Rhaegar on the throne. By the time the plan would come to fruition Elia knew she would be dead and Rhaegar needed a strong woman by his side with a strong family name. She had seen Lyanna’s strength and prowess at the Tourney of Harrenhal. The crown Rhaegar presented Lyanna whilst was a gesture of love and beauty, was first and foremost a gift from my aunt herself, rewarding Lyanna for her efforts in the lists, without risking her life. You see Aerys was convinced the knight of the laughing tree had been sent to assassinate him.”

Jon smiled fondly. It had been a good story, the knight of the laughing tree. It had been the only story Ned had ever told about his mother. As indirectly as it had been.

“Elia knew Rhaegar had a certain fondness for her, an attraction with her to say the least and his head was so deep in prophecy that it worked in both Elia and Rhaegar’s favour for Lyanna to marry and replace Elia as Queen. Her children would remain in the line of succession due to the law put in place by Jaehaerys the conciliator. Rhaegar would have Dorne and the North at his back when he displaced his father. Rhaegar and Lyanna started a correspondence whilst she remained in the Riverlands on the command of her father. He visited her often in that year under the guise of a minstrel. Meanwhile Elia was in Dorne at the water gardens with her children, enjoying her final days. All they had to do was wait.”

Arianne paused while Jon took in this information. When he had first been told of his lineage he had not cared for the hows and whys of his father’s choices but now...now this was interesting.

“Unfortunately your grandfather had different ideas. He had his own coup, already tied in with the Baratheons, the Tully’s and the Arryns. He moved the date of Lyanna’s wedding forward and as soon as Lyanna knew this she begged Rhaegar to step in, to speed up the process. Elia contacted the high Shelton explained the condition that she was in, she confessed the whole coup and Maynard agreed to grant an annulment. Rhaegar met Lyanna north of Harrenhal at an inn and together they rode for Dorne to distance themselves from the north, the Riverlands and the stormlands. I remember the day they arrived in Dorne. Lyanna played with us. Rhaenys, Aegon and I whilst my father witnessed the annulment. They stayed for three days and then went east to Starfall whilst my aunt returned to King’s Landing. By this point Brandon Stark had already been arrested. Elia was to go to Brandon and explain the whole plan, but when she arrived he was already dead, as was Rickard Stark. The war had begun. She wrote to them both to urge them to lay low for a while to work on securing other alliances whilst the country fell apart. You know the rest of the story.” She sighed tears welling in her eyes.

Jon swallowed thickly. “She never thought my siblings would be killed” he whispered seeing the flaw in the plan. “Rhaegar never envisioned a situation where my brother and sister would die. He envisioned a situation where my mother would, even myself but never them”

The realisation cut him deeper than expected. He had had three kings guard to protect him and his mother. Robert has wanted Rhaegar dead, would have had his mother safely returned to him but his birth would have only served as a reminder of Rhaegar’s crimes, of Lyanna’s unfaithfulness. But Elia, no one would have harmed her. Robert surely wouldn’t have she had no value to the grand scheme of things, a divorced woman and her children would live peacefully in Dorne. That had always been the plan. But it had gone wrong. It had gone terribly wrong. Tywin Lannister had set his beast upon them.

“They butchered my cousins” Arianne whispered furiously. “They stabbed a little girl of three, a girl I considered to be a sister to me, they stabbed her fourteen times. They tore her to shreds. And Aegon! A babe, he couldn’t even walk” she gasped as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Dorne will never crown Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen” Her hand furiously brushed the tears from her face and looked up into Jon’s face. “But we can crown their brother. Dorne can fight for the last of the Dragon’s children. For their honour, for their sacrifice we pledge our sword to Aegon of House Targaryen the sixth of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jon nodded smiling. “Thank you my lady but swearing fealty to me is not enough, you must swear equal fealty and show equal loyalty to the Queen. Daenerys is not my consort, she is my counterpart”

Arianne turned to Daenerys beaming. “Forgive me My Queen. Dorne will forever belong to you. You are named for Woman who brought peace to Dorne as I am sure you know. The seven kingdoms were united by her sacrifice and her duty. Your grace you have sacrificed more than we could have ever asked of you. You did your duty by putting aside your differences and your wars to defend the realm from the dead. You suffered scorn and disrespect from Sansa Stark and her people. Dorne would never show you that disrespect. We would have knelt in the street as you walked by, we would have given our own food to your armies so that they may keep strong for the oncoming storm, and I would have flown the dragon standard from every tower, window and balcony. The North claims they always remember but in their hour of need their memories seemed to disintegrate like dust along with their loyalty but, My Queen, Dorne will never forget. You proved yourself worthy of the crown as you rode into battle yourself, when you fell from your dragon you rose sword in hand and fought until the dead were defeated. For that Dorne shall love you and bow to you until her dying breath.”

Jon watched as Daenerys smile turned to tears and she rose sweeping delicately down the steps and the women embraced each other. “Thank you my lady” Daenerys whispered. “Your words mean more to me than anything.”

Touched, Jon rose once more to join his wife. “Princess Arianne, we value your loyalty, we are forever thankful for your support. You have come a long way and we hope that you and your armies are as comfortable as you can be here in the true north. We are bringing you into a war, as I have explained but I vow to you, we will work together to build a better world for future generations”

She grasped his offered hands, dipping her head. “Thank you your grace. Dorne and her swords are yours in victory and defeat. As a symbol of our loyalty and our alliance, we have brought you a gift”

She turned and motioned for two men to step forward. Between them a dark oak panelled chest. They set it down between the Princess and the monarchs and Arianne bent to undo the latches. 

“Firstly” she said. “Dorne must ask for forgiveness. We have kept these from house Targaryen for over two centuries. But with good faith. You see as I have explained, we bowed to dragons because we respected their power. But we have waited and waited for the right monarchs to come along, to prove to us and the seven kingdoms that they are worthy of such a gift. We have been left disappointed time and time again. But I, Arianne Martell, i know that finally after years and years I have before the most powerful, the most courageous, the most relentless and the most honourable Targaryen King and Queen this world has ever seen.” She lifted the lid and stood back waiting for Jon and Dany to look I side. 

“You talk of building a new world your grace, and Daenerys you have given us just a taste of what it shall look like. We are going into war, and what better opportunity is there to show the world that the Targaryens have come again than their monarchs riding into battle with the conquerors crowns upon their heads.”

Beside him Daenerys let out an audible gasp her hand reaching out as she brushed the Valyrian steel circlet of rubies. Jon could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he looked down to the two crowns. He knew from his old childhood obsession with the young dragon that Aegon the dragon’s crown had been lost in the sands of Dorne for years. He remembered picturing himself atop a dragon with the ruby crown upon his head, but never in his lifetime did he expect to come into contact with such an ancient artefact. After all the truths that had been admitted that day this one was the most powerful.

“My father had always wanted to gift this to your brother your grace” Arianne said meeting his gaze. “But Aegon is not the man you are and in my opinion you are far more worthy. As for the second crown, Rhaenys was Aegon the first’s Queen by choice. He married Visenya for duty, but he married Rhaenys for love. Chosen out of love, devotion and loyalty. No other Targaryen woman has been shown this amount of compassion until you my Queen. You wear the crown not because your father was once a king, but because your people chose you. They chose a girl who brought magic back into this world. They chose a woman who freed them from their bonds of slavery, they chose a leader who looked not at creed, or birth or status but skill, love and loyalty. Aegon the dragon chose Rhaenys. Aegon the reborn chose you. You are ten times the woman Rhaenys and Visenya were put together. You are this worlds last hope. You are a mother, a wife, a warrior, a liberator and a Queen in your own right . You are Dorne’s Queen from this day until your last day” 

Jon looked to Daenerys who stood her hand not quite resting on the crown, her violet eyes were filled with tears and he thought to all the trials and tribulations that she had faced in her life. Arianne Martell was right. Daenerys was more than him, more than anyone. She was a goddess of magnificent fury, of catastrophic strength and she was his Queen. The Queen he had chosen all those years ago. Now and Always.


	23. Daenerys - Seven Bells, One Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys adds to her small council as memories of the past bring up old emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is! This one is a long one! My prayers are with Kit, Emilia, Alfie and Gwen tonight. I hope they receive the emmy’s that they deserve.
> 
> Enjoy!

Daenerys - Seven Bells, one ring

Dany returned alone to their rooms, leaving Jon and Tormund to oversee the dornish and stormland’s army make camp. She would have had accompanied them but part of her couldn’t face them. Not yet. 

The words Jon had said, the way he had said them had stirred a fire in her she had not felt in almost five years. It was a dark fire, hot and destructive, it was a fire which had burned through her once. It had destroyed her justice, her mercy and her compassion, it had turned her into a monster and five years ago she had revelled in it. Revelled in the fear that was felt for her. Now here she was, far away from the destruction she had caused listening to Jon. Her Jon. Her king, her husband speak of war, of fire and blood. She wanted vengeance. She longed to see her enemies ashes scattered at her feet. She wanted the rivers to run red with the blood of traitors. But as she walked through to her rooms and saw her two children happily tying red ribbons into the fur of their dire wolf Dany knew she wanted peace. She wanted peace for her babies, she wanted a home, this home with the mountains and the beaches. She wanted Lyanna to grow up in a world that she would not have to rule, where she would not have to where a crown. Dany wanted a world where her son would not have a sword put in his hand, where he would not have to see men die. But they had been found and now the world knew. The world would search for her children . The world would hunt her children, they would hunt them like they had hunted her. 

She would not allow the world to hunt them. No. They would not live in fear. No. 

They would be feared. They would be loved. They would be respected. They were the son and daughter of the most powerful monarchs this world would see. 

Daeron squealed in delight when Daenerys entered, his hands entwined in ghosts fur as his sister frowned over a braid cross legged on her parents bed.

“Poor ghost” Dany smiled kneeling before the great wolf a hand outstretched to his snout. “What have they done to you the cheeky rascals?”

“We’re getting ghosty ready for the party Mummy” Lyanna said as she tied yet more red ribbon into his fur.

“For the party” Dany repeated taking a ribbon in her hand. “And where did you get so much ribbon?”

Lyanna’s violet eyes looked up in fear and Dany raised an eyebrow mock anger on her face.

“Well you never wear that dress mummy” Lyanna said almost justifying her actions.

“I wore it the day you were born” Daenerys whispered. “When I came here this was the dress I was wearing”

Her little face crumpled in despair. 

“I told you Anna, mama wouldn’t be happy!”

She stood up on the furs her little fist waving at her side. “But ghosty is so pretty!” There were tears in her eyes and a part of Daenerys knew that her daughter would need to control her crying should she ever wish to be Queen. It was thoughts like that, that made Dany hate herself. She reached for her daughter wiping the tears from her cheek. 

“Yes my darling he is very pretty, perfect for the party, do not worry about the dress, you are right I never wear it. It looks far better on Ghost”

Behind Lyanna, Daeron grinned manically and wrapped his skinny arms around his sister’s neck. “See mama’s not mad! We can make her a new dress can’t we Anna”

Dany looked to ghost who’s garnet eyes stared at her in despair, he loved the children truly but he had become ever the source of entertainment for the little dragons, they regarded him to be more like a family dog, rather than a wild animal that had more than once, ripped the throats from his master’s enemies.

“Right” Dany said standing. “Bath time for you both, you are quite right there is to be a feast, we must welcome our new friends and right now ghosty smells better than the pair of you”

Both children groaned and began to protest but Dany held a finger up.

“Any more whining and you will spending the evening here and I shall have Edwin look after you”

That had both of them up and off the bed and running towards their rooms screaming in mock terror.

Freida and Helga later found her ,down to her slip and corset kneeling before the bath tub wrestling with her son as she attempted to wash his hair.

“The onion knight’s wife to see you your grace” Freida called out but upon noticing her Queen’s dishevelled state she turned. “I can tell her to come back later-“

“No no” Dany called sitting back on her heels. “I will see Lady Seaworth, Helga could you finish up with the children, Daeron must wash his hair at least twice before he is done in the bath.”

Her son made a deploring noise of protest but Dany ignored him, wiping her brow and brushing the soap suds from her skirts.

Lady Seaworth was waiting for her in Jon and Dany’s solar. Straight backed and passive she stood as Daenerys entered dropping into a curtesy. Motioning for her to do the same Dany took a seat.

“Thank you for seeing me your grace, I am sorry if I have interrupted your personal time.”

Dany waved a hand. “Please do not , my lady, I was simply trying to clean my unruly children, I must apologise for my appearance, my three year old has a particular adversity to washing his hair.”

The older woman smiled, the lines in her face deepening. She was a pretty woman in truth, in youth Daenerys guesses that she would have been slim, but now after child birth she had rounded and softened. Yet there was a hardened aspect to her face that Daenerys recognised as long term grief. Quickly she racked her brains and remembered that Jon had once told her that Davos had lost sons.

“We have never met” Daenerys began wondering what she could have to say or ask.

“No your grace.”

“You did not accompany Your husband North in the last war when he counselled my husband.”

“Nor did I When he counselled Stannis Baratheon. We have a home and lands that needed to be tended to and young boys that needed their mother.”

“And now?”

“Now five out of seven of my sons are dead, our lands are tended to and remaining sons and my husband wish to fight in another man’s war. I will not sit idly on Dragonstone. Not this time”

Daenerys’ eyebrows raised in surprised. “Dragonstone?”

“Yes your grace, Davos was named Castellan after- well after the castle was vacated”

Dany smirked at the woman’s choice of words. “So what of my home Lady Seaworth, has it been purged of my presence? My family’s heritage replaced with dire wolves? It is grander than Winterfell, has the Queen in the North claimed it as a southern retreat? Or mayhaps the crippled king would see it torn down, erase all evidence of my house’s grand and bloody history” The anger rose in her chest like flame in a dragon’s throat and she felt the prick of tears at her eyes. She took a steadying breath releasing her clenched fists and looking into her lap. 

“The latter I am afraid, I believe Brandon Stark intends to tear it down once he has the men to do so, in the mean time we look after it”

Her breathing did not steady her anger this time. Without thinking she tossed the jug of ale to the floor watching it shatter through a haze of red. The words had woken the dragon within her but when she saw the fear in Marya Seaworth’s eyes she paused remembering herself. She gasped for air, her head spinning whilst her heart hammered irregularly. She sat back kneading her hand into the arm rest of her chair.

“I’m sorry, but it was my home, the place of my birth. The Starks took my people, my most loyal friends and my mind, taking my home is just another insult to add to the pyre”

Marya nodded slowly. “I understand your grace. It is why I am here to see you. I have some of your possessions. Not all of them mind , but I found some and I kept them.”

Dany blinked shocked, she was unsure whether she was grateful or offended by the gesture. “Why?”

“In truth? I do not know, I suppose despite the Stark’s efforts to erase your house I knew that your husband still lived, and Davos oft spoke of the King’s devotion to you. I thought him to be the last of his house, I thought that maybe one day he may have wanted them. But alas here you are and they are yours so”

She bent down to a wooden chest at her feet and pushed it open. Unable to see properly Dany waited for her to place her possessions upon the desk. A red silk package. Dany reached for it and delicately unwrapped it. Inside was her mother’s ring, she smiled at it teary as she remembered the day she had decided to not put it on.

“I have had this since I was born. I wore it everyday apart from the day I burnt King’s Landing to the ground. They had pushed me to madness, I knew that day I would be Aerys’ daughter not Rhaella’s..... so I didn’t wear it. I didn’t want it tarnished with blood” The confession was more to herself as she slipped it onto her index finger, the comfortable weight grounding her.

“Aye Davos told me he had seen you wear it. There is this as well.” She pushed a velvet pouch into Dany’s hand and knowing what it was, Daenerys emptied it out onto the wood. Seven bells chimed clumsily as they rolled about.

“I was going to wear these on my coronation. Seven bells for the seven kingdoms. In the Dothraki culture a Khal will add a bell to his braid when he has won a great victory. Missandei had known how I had wanted them, but she was gone and my material values seemed trivial after that.”

“Well mayhaps you could show someone else how you want it, I am sure when the Dothraki arrive they will appreciate the gesture from their Queen-“

“Khaleesi” Dany muttered, mainly out of habit.

“There is this as well, a dress of yours I can only assume.”

When she unfolded the fabric in front her holding it up for approval Daenerys could not stop the tears from falling.

“I never wore this dress” Dany whispered taking the silver silk into her hands. She examined the fabric, the crimson scale detailing on the sleeves and bodice, the smoky inlay in the pleats of the skirt and almost unnoticeable to a stranger’s eye winter roses embroidered amongst the scale in the sleeves. “I had had it made you see” she said looking up with blurred eyes. “In the days before I sailed north. I had thought that, well plainly my lady I had thought I would marry Jon Snow so I had a dress made. I tried to mimic some northern fashion” She gestured to the crossed silk belts across the bodice. “I wanted to honour his family. I wanted them to like me, and I wanted to say some words under a heart tree wrapped in Jon Snow’s cloak. I was hopelessly in love with him. I have always been hopelessly in love with him”.

She folded the dress and laid it in her lap sniffing loudly. Marya Seaworth surveyed her with dark brown eyes a mixture of pity and was it respect? On her face. Her eyes glanced down at where the dagger wound peaked above her linen shirt, still dark red despite the years that had passed. 

“You forgive him? For that?”

Dany nodded once. “I understand why he did it. I understand the magic behind it. There is a prophecy that tells of a hero plunging a sword into the woman he loves, this igniting lightbringer. In truth he ignited the fire that awoke me, that drives him to victory. It was a great sacrifice on both of our parts. Our minds are free now, clear to make the right decisions, to lead with clarity and justice.”

Marya looked at her skeptically. “That is a Queen’s answer. What of the girl who had that dress made for him? Does she forgive him?”

Daenerys smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, never. But ....she in return is unforgiven by the man whom this dress was made for. That girl razed a city, that girl murdered women and children. That girl died on an ash covered floor. She is gone from this world. You will not find that man or girl here my lady. You may chance a glimpse of them on occasion but they are not here in truth. Not any more”

Marya surveyed her almost suspiciously and then nodded to herself. “Good. I wouldn’t want them as my king and Queen. They were confused, they were young, full of hope and dreams. The woman before me and the man I just met, they know the horrors of this world, they know the reality of war. They do not hide behind fancy words and false promises”.

She leaned back and tapped the desk with blunt finger nails. “My husband is no fighter, yet he’s survived every battle he has fought. He will council you both if you let him. He has taken every son I have birthed for him to war. I am sure you will want my last boys to perhaps squire for the King, or even yourself or a general in your army. They’re good boys. Stannis is good with boats, I suggest you give him something to do with them. Steffon is good with a bow and he’s a good rider, he’s loyal too, stupidly so.” She swallowed loudly. “Don’t let them die your grace, mother to mother do not let my sons die in your war.”

Daenerys smiled sadly, she knew that fear, that mother’s instinct that kicked in, it erased all graces, all politeness and left only an animalistic need to protect. 

“My lady I cannot promise that they will not die. The King is an excellent warrior and you will oft find him in the thickest of the battles and if they are as loyal as you say they are they will be by his side. What I can promise is that they will be armed and armoured in the best steel and leather we can find. They will train night and day not only with the King but with our generals. I have some of the most ruthless warriors in my ranks. The King’s hand himself has fought beside Aegon for years, he defeated small Jon Umber with naught but his fists. And if my people from Essos do cross the narrow sea as you say, your sons will be fighting beside the most loyal man I have ever had the pleasure to meet. My master of war is ruthless, calculating and fearless. I will ensure personally that your boys are trained by him.”

Lady Seaworth nodded her assent. “I shall take your word for it your grace”

Daenerys clasped her hands together. “What can you offer me my lady? Your husband offers council, your sons loyalty what are you able to offer?”

The older woman chewed her lips and shrugged. “I can cook I suppose and clean-“

Daenerys shook her head. “Don’t put yourself down my lady, I know your husband has been away far longer than he’s been home, you have run his household I assume?”

“Aye, and his business. I used to balance the books, and I was always quite good at collected what was owed to us. Finding us money when there was none, making sure debt was settled. I ran the most successful and secretive smuggling business West of Tyrosh. Davos just sailed the ships”

Dany smiled at the woman who had been behind Davos Seaworth’s reputable success. She had need of more women on the unofficial small council. More women who could fight for what they believed in. More women who would intimidate spineless lords. She wanted the Olenna Tyrell’s of the world. Before her sat one of them.

“Oh good then I have great need of you. I shall have the books brought to you. I shall ensure you shall have suitable accommodation and offices befitting your station. You may take on anyone you deem to be use of you. Tormund’s daughter Fraia is very good at balancing numbers.”

“My station your grace?” Lady seaworth asked confused.

“Yes” Dany smiled warmly. She liked this woman very much, even more so than her husband mayhaps. “I believe the official title is master of coin, I can change it to mistress of coin if you’d prefer?”

Marya shook her head her dark eyes glinting. “I prefer master of coin”

Daenerys laughed and nodded standing and reaching for the woman’s soft hand. “As do I, welcome to the small council Lady Seaworth, master of coin”

 

Her own bath was taken sometime later. In the peace as her children took their afternoon nap. The hot water soothing her frigid joints, loosening her muscles ever stiff from constant training, walking, riding and fucking. She rode Jon more often than she did her horse and Jon claimed her more times than he ate meals. Five years and their love was still as fiery, still as passionate. The evening before she had been bound ankle to wrist as he had had his way with her into the early hours of the morning . She smirked at the memory, the warmth of her arousal spread through her abdomen and she thought about reaching between her legs to bring herself relief but her thoughts were interrupted by heavy footsteps, the familiar chunk of sword and scabbard hitting the panelled floor and the swing of the door as Jon entered the bathroom.

“I’d thought I’d find you here” He grunted as he stood behind her pulling the pin that held the masses of silver curls atop her head. Her cry of protest died in her mouth as she felt a cold heavy ring of steel weigh down on her skull. Rhaenys Targaryen’s crown was heavier than the one the smith had made her, but it fit perfectly. She reached up to touch the ancient stones smiling to herself at the sudden rush of power that coursed through her veins. Jon rounded the tub grabbing the small stool by the wash basin that the children oft stood on to brush their teeth and sat, knees spread wide,taking her in.

“How do I look?” Dany asked beaming.

“Like a fucking goddess. I should have someone paint you”

“A royal portrait?” Dany japes. “Jon how scandalous, you would have your queen’s tits on show for all to see?”

Jon growled. “I never said I was sharing the portrait. For me. My eyes only”

Dany laughed delicately. “Oh of course, it can remind you what I looked like once, when I have grown fat and old you can relieve yourself to my portrait with your hand.”

Jon smirked pulling his hand down his scarred face. “No lass. I will want you always. No matter how fat or old you get. I will fuck you until my dying day”

Dany giggled splashing water at him. “And then rise the next day and do it all again”

He chuckled darkly looking to his boots. “I have just seen ghost, he looks like one of your damned coats.”

She smiled. “Yes, Lyanna was determined to get him ready for the party. I did try to save the old boy, get rid of the ribbons but she wouldn’t have any of it”

Jon laughed as he reached his hand into the water, his fingers skimming her calf. 

“Are you getting in?” Dany asked pulling her legs up and spreading her legs.

“Do I smell that bad?” He japed as he stood letting his shirt fall to the floor.

“On the contrary, but the children are asleep. They won’t be for much longer and we must be gracious hosts to our guests this evening. No sneaking off tonight to fuck your wife” 

Jon groaned as he sunk into the water ignoring it as it splashed on to the floor. “But I enjoy sneaking off and fucking my wife.”

Dany smirked sinking further into the bath so she could prod her foot against his chest.   
“And your wife enjoys it too, but tonight we must be King and Queen and they don’t get to have as much fun”

He grabbed her foot and kissed the sole . “I hear you’ve been doing plenty queening today” his fingers traced from her ankle bone to the back of her knee and Daenerys shuddered despite the heat of the bath.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She asked raising an eyebrow.

“We have a new mistress of coin” He muttered his attentions very much focused on the trail that his fingers were painting up her thigh.

“Master of coin.” Dany stated flatly. “To be a master does not mean you must be a man and as I hear it Marya Seaworth is better than most men at coin”

“I’m not disagreeing with you my love. So be it we have a new Master of coin. I look forward to seeing her talents be put to use.”

“You will take her youngest son, Steffon, to squire as well” she whispered whimpering slightly as his blunted fingernails traced the apex of her thigh.

“Not a squire. I am no knight and I cannot knight him. I am not a follower of the seven” he grunted still not meeting her eye.

“Your steward then and you’ll train him, ive promised Lady Seaworth that her boys will not go to war untrained.”

He nodded stiffly. “Aye I’ll train him. He may be a better student than you are”

Dany gasped in protest. “I am a very good student”

He looked up His grey eyes filled with skepticism, a smirk playing at his lips. Jon’s face said it all and Dany knew it. Her training was going well on the most part, she was good with a bow, and good enough with a sword, although according to her husband she was predictable. But there were also several occasions where their weapons had laid untouched and had instead rutted like rabbits.

Feeling heat pool at her cunt she let her foot trace down the scars lashed across Jon’s chest and stomach until her toes curled around the course hair bellow his belly button. She felt his cock harden along higher ankle and she grinned. Jon growled and pulled her towards him, his lips crashing against hers. She moaned as she reached up to her head to lift the crown from her head but he pulled back shaking his head.

“No” he growled reaching up to grab her wrist. “Don’t take it off. You look so-“ he kissed the scar over her heart. “Beautiful. I want you to remember this day” he kissed her cheek and then the other. “When we go south and they put this crown upon your head” he kissed her lips his teeth biting down on the soft flesh. “I want you to remember that I am yours. That you are my Queen. And I will fuck you how the Queen of the seven kingdoms deserves. Crown upon your head. Daenerys Stormborn” he pulled her forward so she could straddle his lap, his cock nudging at her folds. “Of House Targaryen, first of your name, Queen of the Andals, the firth men” His hands skimmed over her arse and up her back, his fingers tangling into her silver curls. “Of the Rhoynar and the free folk. Queen of Dragon’s bay, Khaleesi of the Great grass sea, mother of dragons, breaker of chains” Dany moaned as he brought her down upon his length. “The reborn”

Dany gasped in pleasure and then smiled down as the crown upon her head tilted slightly. “You remembered”

Jon grinned back his grey eyes alight with love. “I will never forget”

 

The bonfires rose high up into the nights sky as freefolk, dornish men and stormlanders alike danced, drank and laughed together. There had been many toasts made by many people.

“To the King and Queen” Tormund had shouted his horn raised as the freefolk had roared their approval.

“The House Targaryen” Ser Davos had cried to the applause of the stormland’s army.

“To Fire and Blood” Princess Arianne had screamed to the night as the dornish had began to sing songs that Dany had never heard but had been told were to praise her house. 

They had feasted on boar and elk alike. Daenerys had danced with Jon, with her children, with Tormund and Ser Davos. She had drunk with Kari and Edwin, even gossiped with Freida and she sat by the fire her eyes trained on her husband who was engrossed in conversation with Davos and Daemon Sand.

“They will be talking all night your grace. My sworn sword has yearned to meet the King for many years” Arianne Martell said as she topped Dany’s cup up with the wine she had brought up the narrow sea.

Daenerys smiled up at the Princess adorned in onyx furs and burnt orange silk. The bronze suns sat upon her head atop a mass of dark curls. Arianne Martell was older than Daenerys by some years and in another life they may have grown up together. Dany motioned for her to take Jon’s vacated seat.

“You have a loyal man by your side Princess” Dany said meeting Arianne’s dark eyes as they moved to the bastard of godsgrace. 

“As do you your grace.” Arianne countered raising her cup of wine to her lips. “His words this morning were quite moving. I never imagined I would hear them from his lips giving his upbringing”

Dany’s lips pursed. “His upbringing was honourable I will not deny Eddard Stark of that, but his children betrayed him, used him and set him aside when he was no longer of use to them. They wanted him to be King once. Well this is what they shall get. He shall be King. A Targaryen King. A dragon King.”

“And we shall all prosper from it I believe. It shall teach the Stark’s a valuable lesson”

Daenerys smirked. “And that is?”

“That they are not as honourable and as innocent as they claim to be. Or at least certain members of that ancient house are not.”

Daenerys snorted into her cups and Arianne laughed . “You have little regard for the King’s family your grace”

Daenerys scowled and shrugged. “Why should I? Brandon Stark and Sansa Stark actively fought for my downfall. This lady of Winterfell showed me nothing but disrespect from the start.”

“I am fortunate enough to not have met her. She may be ruling the north from her father’s seat. But I know she was raised by Lannisters. Mentored by Petyr Baelish. She’s as southern as they come. Sansa Stark uses her suffering as an excuse for her vindictive ambition”

Daenerys laughed lightly. “You are not wrong Arianne. We have all suffered, it is futile to go on about it. We have learned from our terrors and become stronger because of them. We are better rulers, better mothers, better women because of it.”

Arianne’s gazed almost longingly at her knight. “What are your plans for the North your grace? Out of curiosity that is.”

Daenerys swallowed more wine. “What do you mean?”

“Sansa Stark committed treason. Your king wants her head as I am sure so do you. Brandon Stark’s head shall also be yours before long. Who shall govern the north? Who shall sit at Winterfell?”

That gave Daenerys a moments pause. She had not thought of it in truth. She supposed it could go to Daeron, yet he was still a babe and knew nought of the ancient stronghold. But then the answer came to her as she surveyed the men in the room, thinking of who had sent them.

“Arya Stark shall rule Winterfell. She fought and defeated the dead, she is a capable leader and has always been close to the King. I will not give Winterfell to another family. Winterfell has belonged to House Stark for millennia’s. I would not see it ruled by someone else.”

Arianne nodded. “And you think Aegon Targaryen would be happy to see his cousin Arya, who is known to have trained with the faceless men, who is known to poison an entire family to avenge her own, take power in the north? After the execution of her last remaining siblings?”

Her breath hitched in her throat as she contemplated that fact. Arianne leant forward her hand closing over Daenerys’

“I am not trying to perturb you your grace. She is the obvious choice. The only choice. She came to us and sent us here. Her loyalty for your husband and in extension to you. But she has crossed to narrow sea to find your people. People who see her as an assassin. Who see her as the sister to their Queen’s killer. I had nothing to lose sailing here. Your people, your armies have everything to lose sailing here should they think it to be a trap. I am just putting forward the possibility that Arya Stark May not make it back home. Your people do not know you are alive. They see the King as only a Queenslayer. Taking his sisters head may give them comfort. It’s more than likely that they would kill her and then come here in search of you. You king is a strong man, but could he lead your armies if they murdered his sister?”

His words had been of fire and blood and yet Dany remembered the times where they had lain in a ships cabin and she had listened with joy as Jon had spoken proudly of Arya. The only one who had ever treated him as a true brother. Jon was happier now than Dany had ever seen him, the love he had for his children was unfathomable. He was the blood of the dragon, but he had a wolf as a sister and whilst his facade may be as cold as ice towards his mother’s family, ice could still melt.

Arianne had the truth of it. GreyWorm, Daario, the Dothraki would not take lightly to Arya’s presence. They would kill her. Her blood would be on Dany’s hands. Though she had never truly trusted the youngest Stark daughter, she did not dislike her, and she respected her now more than ever. She needed a way to make her people see that the wild she wolf of Winterfell was bringing peace and not lies.

“Thank you for your council Princess, you speak wisely, if you would excuse me.”

The wind on the cliffs billowed about her hair, whipping it across her face as she trudged through the dark to the two masses which lay curled in the frosted grass.

Drogon lifted his head as she approached a low growl smoking from his jaws. She reached out a hand to caress his snout. He was larger than he had ever been. His head alone was the size of a war galley. She smiled as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Hello love” she whispered. “I have a task for you”

He grumbled questionably and Dany laughed. “Are you ready for a trip? To see some old friends?”

He stretched as his mass of leathery wings stretched. Lowering his shoulder he looked at her expectantly. 

“Oh no my love I am not coming with you this time. I must remain here for your brothers and sister. But I need you to bring our old friends some gifts. You remember the way?”

Drogon huffed his molten eyes boring into hers and it seemed he gave a nod. Of course mother. It is not a journey I will forget, it seemed he was saying.

“Oh my boy, my sweet formidable son” 

From her pockets she pulled her gifts, her two scrolls, the only proof of her former life, of her beating heart. Seven bells and one ring she fixed with a red silk scarf tightly around the spikes she often clung to when she rode Drogon into battle. 

To go forward you must go back.

“Go my love, go to our people and protect the wolf. She must be safe. We owe her that for the loyalty she shows us. Let your roar spread the word of my life. Spread the word of your mother’s return. Bring them to me Drogon. Bring them back to me.” 

His roar split the sky shaking birds from the trees and he took off from the cliff, his black shadow speeding away from her sending her skirts whirling about her. Her heart was racing. She needed them to see. She needed Arya Stark to see. 

Rhaegal’s scarred snout nudged at her shoulder and she reached up to pat him gently as he whined.

“Do not fret my emerald boy, he will come back. As he always does”


	24. Arya - A Bad Investment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya seeks out an alliance with an old player of an even older game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for such a long update! I’ve just started a new job so it’s all been a bit crazy! Anyway let’s catch up with Arya!

Arya - A bad investment

Illyrio Mopatis was as wide as he was tall, and disgustingly so. His great silk covered rear engulfed the chaise that he reclined on, his bejewelled hand never far from the bowl of sugared almonds. Arya sat in disgust and the old man leered at her, lecherously smacking his lips as he plopped yet another sweet into his small puffy mouth.

“Of all the Stark’s of Winterfell I had hoped to meet you the least my Lady.” He hummed through a mouthful of plum. 

Arya raised an eyebrow. “And I could say the same of you Magister. Trust me I would not be here if I needed not to be”

The fat man sighed in a sing song tone. “Yet they all come crawling to me when they need something. A funny band of companions you keep Arya Stark. Very strange indeed and most unwelcome in Essos, as are you my Lady.” He laughed and stuffed his mouth once more, this time with honeyed pastries. “Though I am sure i needn’t tell you why that is”

Fury rose in Arya quick and hot and her found the handle of needle almost as quickly as gendry’s squeezed her knee beside her. “We need him” Gendry muttered and Arya but her tongue and stilled her left hand.

Mopatis giggles girlishly. “Wise council my Lord. Heed the bastard’s advise my lady he speaks true.”

“He is not a bastard” Arya hissed. “He is Gendry Baratheon of-“

“Oh I know” Illyrio smirked licking his fingers one by one. “You only need to lay eyes on him to see his fat brutish papa shine through. It is funny how our faces are merely pictures of the past. You my lady a mere reflection of your aunt. Your royal sister ever a Tully with that red hair and those blue eyes ... but we are getting off topic. You have need of me, for such a peculiar and almost unbelievable reason. You would have me believe that your bastard brother is in fact Rhaegar’s long lost son and that he killed his aunt, his love and our beloved Queen so that she may be brought back by the lord of light to rain fire and blood upon a myth and legend that sits in a crumbling red keep. With that belief you would have me vouch for your loyalty and accompany you to Mereen and Vaes Dothrak to claim to raise the Dragon Queen’s armies in the name of house Targaryen”

Arya seethed at his tone. It had been like this for over an hour. They had docked in Pentos in the dead of night and yet the magister had seemingly expected them. Her companions had attempted to accompany her but the guards who had met them had said stoically that only one could accompany her. Gendry had insisted. 

The Mance much like it’s master was grossly over large and garishly gilded in bright golds and sickly purples. They had been offered citrus water, honeyed wine, nut crusted bread, all they had refused. She did not trust this man, she did not trust his staff, she did not trust his niceties nor his food. Everything she had ever heard about the Magister of Pentos had been slippery, multi faceted and unreliable yet she needed this man. She needed his words and his protection through Essos. He had once sheltered Daenerys Targaryen, whether it was for his own gain Arya did not know, but she needed his loyalty, regardless of its watery consistency.

“I need your word as Guarantor when I go before the council of Dragon’s Bay and Vaes Dothrak. You needn’t accompany us.” Arya said after taking a breath to even her tone.

The fat man smiled sardonically. “But you need men who know this land to escort you to the places you seek. Men that are in my employment.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “No...we are more than capable of reading a map. This is not my first time in Essos-“

“Oh my dear girl do not be foolish enough to assume that because you know Braavos you know of the great grass sea, or the red waste or even the ruins of Valyria. Even our great Queen did not manoeuvre across those lands with ease, may she rest in peace”

“Daenerys Targaryen is not dead” Arya repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“So you say, yet where is the proof? Why is she not here herself? Why is she not in Dragon’s Bay? Forgive me but I simply do not believe you, as much as I wish to, i cannot”

Gendry shifted. “Fine believe what you want, but she is not like to forget when we tell her that Illyrio Mopatis refused her loyal Lord and Lady your help. By not helping us you are not helping her majesty. She will come for you as she comes for the rest, with Aegon at her side and an army at her back”

Mopatis chuckled. “Oh the old veiled threat of fire and blood. It swayed me maybe once, a promise of office, of alliances. I invested a lot into House Targaryen and in return I lost one of my biggest assets”

Arya bit back the venom that was aching in her teeth. “I do not think slavery is an honourable asset. Essos is well rid of it thanks to our Queen.”

He hummed as if bored as he examined the bulky amethyst ring on his little finger. “And yet her people still pressure me to free my own slaves. My staff are housed and well cared for and yet in these last four years I have received countless threats from Nudho and Nahaaris. They have even had the audacity to send small bands of men to steal away my staff. A very bad investment indeed.” He stretched from his plush cushions. “I have been working for years now to defend my city from the savages that lie to the east. They continue on their Queen’s message they proclaim that they will end slavery as Daenerys Stormborn wishes” He snorted. “That was not her wish. She needed an army so she did everything she could to gain one. She needed the mindless and weak to believe that she was there for them when no one else would speak for them. She could have bought an army. She could have had the Golden Company. They would have stopped your bastard brother from killing her. There are men still within that company whose loyalty would have lied with her had she given them the time of day.” Mopatis sighed. “Now all that is left are her slave soldiers reaving and raping their way through the cities. I cannot have that Lady Stark! I simply cannot! I need to be able to trade my prized property in peace!”

He gestured to the collared men and women who moved around the room lighting the candles all with fixated smiled on their faces. Arya wanted to vomit at the mummers farce, she could see even in the smoky haze the scars that lashed across their backs The welts on their wrists and ankles crudely covered with ribbons of silk and jewels.

“I treat them well. Far better than most, and if I were to let these savages strip me of my right to own them where would they go? Who would protect them? Who would nurture them?”

“You don’t have to make them leave” Gendry seethed. “Just pay them.”

“Pay them?” Illyrio laughed musically. “Oh my dear boy you truly know nothing! Are they not housed? Are they not dressed and fed? Taking slavery away from the east has never been successful but I like many of my cohorts fear for our lives! The Dothraki and the unsullied are ruthless and blood thirsty! They have not been able to avenge their Queen! So they have taken to the streets and committed heinous acts! You know up until three days ago I was despairing over what to do!”

Arya shut her eyes to the whining that the fat man emitted. The scent of the candles that had been lit were sickly sweet and making her head spin. Her stomach churned with nausea and beside her Arya could see that Gendry was breaking out in a sweat. 

“Truly I was at a loss” Mopatis continued. “But then my little birds informed me that the Hero of Winterfell would be gracing us with her presence. The infamous Arya Stark heir to the northern crown, heir to the southern crown and sister to Eddard Stark’s Queenslaying bastard” His lewd face was swimming before her eyes and Arya knew something was wrong. She tried to focus on the candles, tried to focus on what he was saying.

“I will not free my slaves. Nor will I act against Torgo Nudo and his band of blood thirsty unsullied. That would be a terrible investment.”

“Arry” Gendry whispered his sweaty palm reaching for her. “What the fuck is going on”

“But I did make a deal” Mopatis smiled. “You see they want blood too. I can’t give them the man they want. But I can certainly give them his most beloved little sister. Arya Stark Of Winterfell”

Arya stood abruptly her head spinning as her lungs burned, but her legs had gone numb and beside her Gendry had slumped forward unmoving. She screeched in anger as she tried to unsheathe Needle but her hands would not clench. “Wh-What have you done t-t-to us” She stammered feeling the bile rise in her throat and spray over the marbled floor.

Mopatis stood sighing a scrap of lace held across his nose and mouth. “I think you know. I am told by an excellent source that you are very familiar with this type of poison...deadly in large quantities...in smaller though...well it could send the victim blind...or temporarily paralyse them.”

Arya groaned rolling onto her back as she choked on her own vomit. “The candles” she whispered. “Why?” Her voice was a faint hoarse whisper now and the magister stood over her smirking.

“But I thought you knew my dear! I do hate a bad investment and what you were proposing was simply terrible”

The curse that she wanted to spit would not come as she felt her jaw stiffen and her eyes roll back.

“Oh I do hope they give you a clean death” The fat man tutted and Arya could feel his greasy fingers stroke over her cheek and neck brushing under the neckline of her shirt. She was helpless to his groping and she wanted to scream but instead her blurred vision rolled back into her face.

“It would be such a shame to maim such a beautiful face”


	25. Sansa - A Different Queen, A Different Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives the Hand of the King and proves all that she has learnt

Sansa - A different time. A different Queen.

The morning broke bright and frozen, the moors of Winterfell glowed silver in the sunlight and Sansa let out a cloud of breath as she watched the dark spot on the horizon grow larger. The imminent arrival of her brother’s hand brought such a deep sense of foreboding that Sansa had yet to address within herself or with her advisors. The prospect that Jon could be going against her, could be threatening her reign, threatening Bran’s reign sickened her to the core. All her careful planning, all her strategy to secure the North, to secure her home, her family was about to put in danger. The fury she felt, the betrayal if the rumours were true ... it was as if she was living through Jon. Daenerys Targaryen’s madness seeping through his veins, her soul twisting his thoughts pushing him to be who he wasn’t. This madness would end now. She would go North and put it right and remind her bastard brother where his loyalties lay. With her, always with her, not a dead woman, no matter how much she haunted his dreams.

The years had not been kind to Tyrion Lannister, his once golden hair and beard was greying, the scar across his face more pronounced amongst the deep set wrinkles. He was garbed in deep crimson velvets, his badge of office, solid gold. Sansa sat atop the dais alone on her throne, her husband and her own hand two steps down and on either side. Unlike them both she had donned white furs for the occasion, her gown was cloth of silver lined with dark blue velvet, a crimson enamelled bodice formed of intricate metallic Weirwood leaves wrapped about her waist and up her back forming a stiff collar. 

“You stand in the presence of Her Majesty, Sansa of House Stark, the First of her name, Queen in the North and Lady of Winterfell, the Northern Liberator” Alys announced smoothly to Tyrion’s retinue as he led them in bowing before her. 

Tyrion grinned loftily his tired eyes crinkled with pride. “The traitors daughter”

Sansa smiled swiftly at the old jape and inclined her head. “The demon monkey. I hope your journey was pleasant enough my Lord, how fares my royal brother?”

“The King is well in health, but as my ravens have detailed he is very concerned with the northern threat”

Sansa smile began to fix slightly upon her face. Is that what they were calling it now?

“Would you call it a threat my Lord?” Sansa asked kneading her knuckles into her arm rest.”It is merely the rumours of one man and a band of wildlings.”

Tyrion blinked at her surprise evident across his features. “Your grace two out six kingdoms are in rebellion and have sailed north to treat and side with Jon Snow-“

“No they have sailed north to treat and side with Aegon Targaryen, My Lord, who they will not find because he does not want it, he never has.”

“Did we ever ask him? We just assumed that he did not want it, assumed that he was tired of it all” Tyrion argued and Sansa bit her lip. It was a fair question but she had her answer ready.

“Varys asked him. Lord Varys asked him and he said himself that he did not want it.”

“Aye your grace” Ruari huffed and Sansa could see the bitterness behind his words at having to address her with such formality. “But that was when the Dragon Queen was alive, that was when he still loved her”

“Men do stupid things for the women they love you’ve said it a thousand times my Queen” Alys agreed. “Did we ask him when she was dead?”

“We didn’t have to” Tyrion sighed. “I saw him after it all. He was a broken man, he wanted death far more than anything else.”

“He could have lied” Alys persisted. “It would make sense. After the burning, the world would not have accepted a Targaryen King, and he wasn’t the one who made the decision to end the dragon Queen’s life, that had been decided long before...what if he wanted revenge? It would make sense to return to the only people that would follow him, bide his time, gain his strength. He could have lied”

Anger rose and Sansa leaned forward. “My lady he did not lie. You are talking about the man who helped take back my home, who spared your life despite your father’s crimes, he protected you at the wall when you needed it”

Karstark shrugged. “Aye your grace, he gave me back my home empty and broken,married me off to some wildling man who got himself killed you’re not wrong but you, My Queen took back Winterfell. You were the one who stood up for our men when you knew it was too early to fight after the Great War, it was you who freed the North from its bonds. I may have crowned him my King but he threw it all away just as his brother did for a foreign whore. At least Talisa Stark didn’t burn innocents by the thousands.”

Sansa’s distress nearly became evident on her face as she gazed down to her lap. To hear her closest advisor and some of her closest allies speak of Jon as an enemy was more painful than she had anticipated. He had forgiven her on the docks that day, he had always been kind, her big brother with his sword . He had held her when she had told him all those years ago at castle black what had happened to her. Had given her words of comfort. They had been through so much together and now....

“I know it is hard your grace” Tyrion Lannister’s voice was soft with empathy and far closer than before. “To have loved a sibling so dearly and have them turn on you, to have them betray you.” His stumpy hand took hers and all of a sudden Sansa felt like a girl once again as she stared down into his green bloodshot eyes. “To have Jon turn on you like this it is hard, but you must remember your duty. Else you may lose your brother, like I lost my sister. The King is just as concerned and he would be here himself if he could. We will work through this together and try as hard as we will to have this issue dealt with peacefully. The last thing we want is more bloodshed”

Sansa took a breath and composed herself looking to her husband who nodded and gave a smile of encouragement. She rose and moved to the table at the far end of the hall, atop a map of Westeros lay spread across. Sansa studied the lines of her borders and felt her strength and confidence solidify in her veins. The North. It was all for the throne. Her throne, her crown, her legacy.

“On my father’s honour I will not declare war against my cousin without cause. We need to find out what he wants, what he truly wants”

“Then what do you propose your grace?” Tyrion and Ruari voiced together.

Her fingers rested on Dragonstone. “I won’t deny him his birthright. He followed his orders, He saved this country from a tyrant and her savages. I am willing to absolve his vows of the nights watch and pardon him so long as my brother is also willing. Let him live on Dragonstone and be Lord. We can betrothed him to the Princess of Dorne, granting Dorne’s wish to be ruled by a Targaryen and it will bring the Dornish back into the seven kingdoms. Lord of Dragonstone and Prince Consort of Dorne. When she is old enough I can even send Catelyn South to be fostered by him” She picked up a wolf figurine and placed it upon the painted island. Yes. What had they once said? Children were often the easiest to get secrets out of and oh how her little birds would fly.

 

They supped together in the guesthouse on fresh boar and plum pie. After their strategy meeting Sansa had retreated to her solar her advisors at her heels to prepare for the journey North. They would ride to Castle Black in three days time, and would stop at Karhold on the way to change horses. Alys would remain at Winterfell and continue with day to day business in Sansa’s stead, Maester Wolken would look after the children. Ruari had protested at first.

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Our children are far safer and warmer here than at the wall, and as my Lord Husband and Protector of the North you are required at my side.” Sana’a had retorted snappily. Alys had sent a raven to her cousin and Castellan of Karhold to announce the Queen’s arrival as Sansa had overseen her son’s lessons.

Theon was a good boy and was the apple to his mother’s eye. The boy had been a blessing to her, and resembled his grandfather in so many ways. He was careful with his words, intelligent for a boy of four and robust. When Sansa had first laid eyes upon her heir she had wept with joy, at his dark brown hair and his grey eyes. The fully look would not do to rule the North, not as a man. The North would need a Stark through and through and she had performed her duty and given her people a boy to love and respect. 

“How are your two Lady Commander?” Sansa asked her old sworn shield. “They must be getting big now, remind me of their names?”

“Willem and Joanna your grace and yes they are quite big now, I must admit I will miss their fifth name day”

Sansa smiled sympathetically reaching for Brienne’s hand. “I am sure they will be duly spoilt by Lady Lannister, Fret not my Lady and if not I am sure Maester Wolken can send a raven on your behalf to wish them your love”

“That is kind your grace thank you.. I must admit I had my trepidations about sending them there, but I am told they enjoy it in the west. Joanna has always wanted to see the lions.”

Tyrion laughed down his wine. “Oh yes three name days now I have been asked for a lion.”

“Truly? And what does the boy want? A sword I presume?”

Brienne nodded. “Oh yes, he has already started sparring, Ser Podrick teaches when he can”

The handsome knight grinned. “He’s a good lad, it’s good to have the children around”

Sansa nodded taking another bite of her meal. “Oh I am sure the common folk adore it, it fills me with joy to see that out of so much horror we have produced something so pure.”

Her husband squeezed her hand and smiled kindly. “Beautifully put your grace” 

Sansa felt her heart warm slightly and she returned his smile watching as Tyrion surveyed them with his tired eyes. 

“Your grace” The imp cleared his throat standing. “I have been asked by your brother The King to pay respects on his behalf to his fallen family, I would ask your permission to enter your crypts?”

The lie was so discrete that Sansa almost missed it but she smiled all the same and stood. “Let me accompany you my Lord, it is dark down there, I would not want you to get lost amongst the dead” She rose and pressed a kiss on Ruari’s cheek. “My Lord Husband do entertain our guests for as long as they require, I shall see you later”

His lips brushed her jewelled finger and he muttered his assent. Taking Tyrion’s arm she left the room in a swirl of silk and velvet.

The crypts were a welcome silence from the castle. The candles burned low as Sansa led her former husband down the passages that had both haunted their nightmares. Even now, every small scurry of noise sent shivers down Sansa’s spine as she remembered the dusty creaking of her dead ancestors rising from their tombs.

She had had them all built, despite the empty graves. Mother, Robb and Arya even Baby Rickon, all stood lifeless in stone. Arya’s was the greatest though. Sansa had known her face, had instructed the mason as such. Her little sister stood as if poised to draw her sword, she had had the smith forge replicas of her sword and dagger which glinted against the low flickering light.

The news of Arya’s death had broken Sansa. They had never been close as children, but the year they had spent together before her departure they had rebuilt their fractured relationship. Arya had sided with her, had supported her through everything. They had spent nights abed whispering their stories to each other. She had held Arya whilst she had wept as she had told the story of the red wedding, explained her travels, her imprisonment at Harrenhal. Her love for her little sister was insurmountable and when the raven had come of a broken ship, of no survivors. When Brandon had ridden North himself to break the news to her, tears in his otherwise blank eyes Sansa had broken. The whole North has gathered to pay their respects to the Hero of Winterfell. Two thousand men and women from all classes had lined the streets as the empty wagon had carried naught but the sail that Arya had raised to sail west. Her body had never been recovered. Sansa and Bran had followed behind, they had written to Jon but had nothing but silence from the wall. Sansa had hated Jon for that. Of everyone he had been her favourite and he had not had the dignity or courage to show his face. Nor had Gendry Baratheon attended the funeral. Brandon had gone to Storm’s End in person to tell him of Arya’s death, they had been friends after all but the surly bastard Lord had refused the facts,telling the King that ‘until I see a body I cannot and will not believe you.” 

“I did not know her your grace” Tyrion muttered as he watched Sansa light a candle for her fallen sister. “I wish I had.”

“She was strong” Sansa whispered hoarsely allowing a respite in her steely demeanour. “Braver than anyone I ever knew, and fiercely loyal. I wanted her to be my hand. I wanted her to rule with me and she died in a storm.”

“Would she give you the same council in our current state if she were here though? Would she go against her favourite brother?”

Sansa had been pondering the same thing all evening. “If the rumours are true, Jon has betrayed us, betrayed our family, betrayed my father’s memory all on the whim of the ghosts that haunt his sleep. Arya would want to know why, but in the end I think she would agree with me.”

Tyrion looked up her his scarred face thrown into shadow. “Offer him a pardon? Betrothed him to the cousin of his late siblings?”

Sansa snorted derisively. “Do you honestly believe I would go through with that? A mummers farce. I know as do you that Jon would never settle for that. He’s always been all or nothing. My brother would never grant him power over one of his largest kingdoms.” Sana’a sighed. “I must be just however. I have offered a deal, like any just Queen should, I have been merciful or at least appeared to be.” She smiled to herself the power lustful in her mind. She raised a fist and turned to her for et husband. “Do you know what I hold in my hand?” At his silence she continued. “Absolute Power. House Stark rules this land and we will continue to do so until the end of time. He dare threaten my rule? He dare threaten Brandon’s rule? No no. I vowed that this country would never again kneel to dragons and I will ensure that never happens.”

“How will you do that?” Tyrion muttered an air of caution playing on his tongue. But he was an d foolish man and Sansa was far better than him.

“We will do what we have always done my Lord. We shall play this game. We have won it before and we shall do it again. Winter is Coming Tyrion and I will not rest until Aegon Targaryen’s head is at my feet. I will destroy his people, I will burn his land and I will be the last thing he shall ever see. A Stark Queen smiling down at him as he dies”

Tyrion Lannister inhaled the damp air his hands clenching and unclenching, Sansa wonders whether he was intimidated by her words, if he did then good. She ruled her country with an iron fist and an icy heart, this dilemma would not change that.

“You loved him once my lady, have you forgotten that”

Sansa turned and began her walk back down the aisle of tombs. “I have not but I will tell you something that I learned when I was very young. The more people you love, the weaker you are”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was greatly inspired by Lauren Michelle’s recent YouTube video about the parallels between Sansa and Cersei. Also by “Believe” on the season 8 soundtrack. The track itself I believe presents a much darker side to House Stark and as we all know in this story the North is now ruled by a much darker side of the Stark’s. We know that they haven’t always been the good guys and they certainly aren’t in this story.


	26. Arya - The Rooster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Hope seems lost as Arya reaches her destination

Arya - The Rooster

She dreamt of her father often. His face, his rare smile, the warmth of his embraces. This time he sat at the pool in the Gods wood, Ice across his lap, a wet stone working across the blade. He looked up as she approached and smiled, his grey eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Look at you” He whispered a calloused hand reaching for her cheek. “All grown up.”

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake” Arya muttered. “I don’t think I am going to survive this, not this time.”

“You shouldn’t fear death Arya. It is terrible, aye, but once it is said and done you are at peace. Your brother will tell you as much. He prefers death to life, life is arduous, it is full of pain and misery.”

“He’s not my brother though” Arya but back, anger bubbled in her chest. “You lied...why did you lie?”

Her father groaned pulling his hands up to his face. “Why this question Arya? Of all the questions why this one?”

“Because I want to know, because it ruined everything...why did you lie?”

“I was eight and ten Arya. My father was dead, my brother was dead, Lyanna was dying and there he was, a little babe with a right to the world, with a burden on his shoulders that he would never understand and I was tired. I wanted the fighting to stop. I lied because it was easy. I knew the lengths I would have to take to protect Jon, should I declare him the rightful King...Robert would kill me...He would kill my wife, he would kill Jon and I couldn’t bare it.”

“You sent him to the wall without telling him.”   
Arya whispered, it had always confused her why Jon had gone to the wall, even more when she had learned the truth.

Ned Stark sighed sadly, his hand stilling as he stared out across the black pond. “Aye, I almost told him, the day we rode out I was so close in doing it, but I couldn’t.... I loved him as if he were my own son.” Eddard Stark looked up to the grey sky and chuckled. “He’s far better than any of my own sons. I loved them by the gods I loved all three of them, but Jon...when I discovered what was going on in King’s Landing. What Robert had done to the realm, what Cersei Lannister was doing behind Robert’s back....when they offered me the black it was almost perfect. I would have gone Arya, I would have gone to that bloody wall and told my nephew who he was. I would have crowned him myself there and then. I would have gone across the narrow sea and allied us with Daenerys Targaryen. It was all falling into place and then....”

Neither of them finished the sentence, they both knew what happened after that. 

“I’m going to lose my head” Arya muttered chewing on her lip. “I was stupid to think that Illyrio Mopatis would help me. I was foolish to think he would let me walk free. I should have seen the poison candles before they were lit.”

“Arya” Her father sighed bringing her to him. He sat her on his knee like he used to when she was a girl. Now it only seemed foolish. “I will not lie to you, you may lose your life but you underestimate your ability to make alliances in the strangest of people. I won’t tell you to trust it because it may not save your life, but know, the people who count do not want you dead.”

“ The people who counted didn’t want you dead” she whispered.

“That is where you’re wrong my brave daughter”

Her head throbbed badly as her fever dream faded and she groaned against the pain in her stomach and the burning at her bound wrists. Nausea rolled in her stomach as her vision blurred into focus. The scene had not changed, the dingy brig of the ship swam before her and she heaved awkwardly, vomiting into the bucket beside her. Groaning she spat the remains of bile and pushed her head back against the rusted bars breathing shallowly. Arya didn’t know how long they had been on the ship, she had tried at first to count the days watch as the light would brighten through the cracks but the guard had caught on and She had then spent an unfathomable amount of time under a hood. Mopatis’ men had laced the food as well with light doses of poison, had even force fed her on many occasion. When Gendry had awoken in his chains to see this he had ripped off the ear of the nearest guard with his teeth. Arya had laughed deliriously at him for that afterwards and then she had cried when he had fallen unconscious. They poisoned her enough not to kill her but to keep her senses dulled and slow. To Gendry they did the same but after the ear incident his chains doubled as did the doses of milk of the poppy.

Movement behind her perked her ears from her confusion. The caged door of the brig swung forward and a man stood before her his eyes surveying her with apprehension. 

“They call you the hero of Winterfell” he muttered pushing a cup of sweetened water to her lips. It was poisoned, she knew, but her throat was so dry Arya drank anyway and deeply. “A true warrior of House Stark”

The man chuckled quietly. “You are from a family of many warriors no doubt my lady. You are also from a family of murderers, liars and cheats, did you know that?”

Arya’s tongue was thick and heavy, and her bones ached down to the marrow, she had no words for this man.

“Word has it you wiped out an entire male line from an old house all because their Lord murdered your mother and brother. Your sister I am told praises you highly for that. Praised you for murder....but of course she’s enjoyed her fair share of murder. The daughter’s of Eddard Stark seem to have more blood on their hands than his sons, how he would be proud”

“My father was honourable” Arya whispered feeling the tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to be far from this man and this ship, she felt like a little girl again.

The man snorted his derision. “Your father was a ruthless cunt. Honourable is not how I would describe the man who fucked some whore wenches after slaughtering half of the king’s men at Stoney Sept....although I suppose the bastard that followed that particular raping was proof enough of his dishonour....and what a bastard he grew to be, a murderous, treasonous Queenslaying bastard” 

“No” Arya cried. “No...he’s not my father’s son. He’s Rhaegar’s, please Ser, you have to believe me. He’s my cousin, Lyanna’s trueborn son, Aegon Targaryen and.... the Queen isn’t dead, not anymore,please you have to help me.” Arya’s begging stopped abruptly as the man’s calloused fist smashed against her face.

“Stop!” Gendry had awoken and strained against his own shackles but it was no use. Arya gasped for breath spitting the blood and broken teeth from her mouth. The man crouched down in front of her and grasped her aching jaw and Arya finally knew who he was, staring at his surcoat and arms stitched upon his breast.

“Rhaegar would want you to fight for his son. You were good friends with him were you not my Lord? Jon Connington, The Rooster who loved the Dragon” Arya muttered and she saw the old man’s blue eyes narrow but not before a flicker of hope ignited but it was quickly diminished by a darkness.

“Rhaegar is dead” He spat. “His son is dead, his father and mother, his daughter, his wives, his brother and his sister are all gone. The Dragons are gone and no amount of lies from your pretty northern mouth will convince me otherwise. Your father was a cunt, your sister is a cunt and so are you. Your bastard brother is a Queenslayer and once I deliver you to Mereen and they take your head for his crimes I will go west and hunt his pretending ass down and watch as he bleeds onto his supposed ancestors sword”

Arya felt her breath hitch as she stared at the sword sheathed on Connington’s left hip. Arya had only ever seen the sword in a book once at Winterfell. It’s characteristics were a tell tail sigh of which house it had once belonged to. The pommel set with the three headed dragon, encrusted with rubies and dragon glass. Arya knew that is he were to draw the blade would be as black as night, rippled with a ruby sheen that could have only been forged by dragon flame. Blackfyre had been Aegon the conquerors sword but had been lost in the blackfyre rebellions, and now it was here in front of her, in a filthy brig on a ship heading for Mereen.

“You will not kill my cousin Lord Connington, he is his father and more, the greatest swordsman in the world.” Arya spat. “Daenerys Targaryen will not let you live long if you attempt to kill her husband, nor will every man, woman or child who follow them. He is their King.”

Connington laughed hysterically. “You are mad Arya Stark. You lies mean nothing to me. You are just another Stark, pretentious and privileged. You will die just as your father, on your knees in front of a crowd who despise you.”

It wasn’t until his footsteps disappeared did Arya let herself cry, in great gasps the tears fell down her grimy cheeks. Gendry moves clumsily opposite her stretching his legs out as far as his chains would allow so that his foot brushed with hers. “It’s going to be okay” he slurred.”We’ll get out of it we always do”

Arya stared at him, the man she cared for even loved and tried to smile but her jaw ached and her broken back teeth cut down on the flesh of her cheeks. “I don’t think I will, not this time”.


	27. Yara - The Queen’s Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yara reflects on her people and her crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you again for the support, this story has kept me going these last few weeks as I have been quite ill.
> 
> This chapter is inspired by the song “Salt and the Sea” by the Lumineers. Feel free to listen to it whilst reading and let me know your thoughts

Yara - The Queen’s woman

The song they sang was raucous and crude but Yara enjoyed it all the same. The storm outside raged with such a fury it shook the battered stone walls of the Great Keep. Quarl and Tris led the drunken celebrations, toasting their Queen in between songs with horns of ale. Her thirty fifth name day had come and gone the night before but her crew still drank deeply and laughed loudly as the dice rolled across the table again and again. Cromm and Droopeye Dale pounded the wood as Fingers lost to yet another round to them.   
“He’s never going to win” Tris slurred stumbling over and sitting clumsily on the arm of the sea stone chair that Yara sat upon. His weathered hand clamped down on her knee and brushed up to her mid thigh.  
“Why’s that” Yara chuckled. “Have you given him weighted dice?”

His face twisted into a sly grin. “Would you be wrath with me if I did?”

Yara shrugged and downed more ale. “Not at all”.

His face was in hers then, his breath stale and saturated with ale, his bright eyes mischievous as they always had been.

“Let’s get out of here” He muttered. “Come on we’ve entertained these bastards long enough let me give you a name day present to remember.”

Yara grasped his wrist painfully, halting his advancements up her leg. “You forget Tris to whom you are speaking to”

“I have not. Yara of House Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands, my captain, my lady. I will never forget.”

“Then don’t presume that a few drinks and a few fucks years ago means that we are going to bed with one another. Name day or no”

“Come on Yara, you’re five and thirty now even a King needs heirs. You mean to say that you won’t extend your line on principle? I’m not belittling you but we do all wonder who will come after you?”

Yara bit back the urge to slap him. She had never married, on the principle that she didn’t have to, but neither had she made any effort to have any children. Outwardly she had insisted that it was because she had little time for such an arduous process but her internal fears of failing her children like her father had failed her and her brothers haunted her almost every night.

“Maybe I should take a leaf out of my uncle’s book and make you mute my Lord. Don’t test my patience over this matter any further.” She muttered dangerously her fingers digging painfully into his groin.

Tris sighed defeated and pulled himself up as Maester Wendamyr entered the hall, side stepping Cromm as he proceeded to vomit into a pale.

“I am sorry to disturb your grace” The small man bowed low. “You have two ravens and a visitor”

Yara rose reaching for ale and downing it in one. “I shall see to all three in my solar, Maester” She swaggered past her men but when Tris made to follow she turned glaring at his too handsome face. “Alone”

 

Yara’s solar still held memories of her father, of her lost brothers, of the life she had once led. Now the last of her name, alone but for a band of reavers and rapers who either wanted to fuck her or follow her. She sat in the straight backed chair rubbing her eyes in an attempt to sober up. The first scroll was from her uncle at ten towers. Her mother was dying, after all these years, Alannys Harlaw was finally fading from this earth. Her uncles words spoke of bringing her mother her last comforts, of preparing for the funeral. Tears did not come to Yara easily and she had long prepared for her mother’s death, yet the thought of her,all being spectral, presence to be gone ,ached her heart. She had lost her eldest brother’s to the Baratheon’s, had lost her father to Euron, had lost Theon to the Stark’s. Her mother had always been there, but now even she would join her sons in death. Yara would always be alone.

The second scroll boiled her ire. Lord Bronn of the Blackwater, Lord of Highgarden and Master of Coin. She knew it was penned by Grand Maester Tarly for the sellsword could not read or write and yet he still demanded taxes from the ‘Lady Reaper of the Iron Islands’. 

Her people called her Queen, and yet the Stark’s with their Seven Kingdoms refused to acknowledge the promise given by Daenerys Targaryen. It made her blood boil, it made her people rage and yet they did not have the strength to conquer the Stark’s. Much as she wanted to, they had taken so much from her and now they wanted coin in taxes. When the youngest Stark’s crew had washed up on her shores all dead, ship splintered, and no trace of the little assassin, she had mind not to tell the King of the South and Queen in the North. They had not told her of Theon’s death after all.   
That had been Daenerys. She had written personally praising Theon of his great sacrifice, apologising for the blood bath she had brought her people into and had vowed to destroy the Lannister’s and Euron if it meant her life. It had meant her life in the end. But Daenerys Targaryen has kept her promises and had did what they had all wanted her to do. The dragon queen had been too good for this world, too good for the Stark’s and their bastard brother. 

Yara has dreamt many a dream of taking Jon Snow’s life, as they had taken Theon’s. She wanted the Stark’s to feel her pain. The death of Arya Stark had given her some comfort. Knowing that the Haughty Queen in the North had broken upon receiving her sister’s sail had kept Yara going these last years. But now she was hungry. Sailing North to the wall and attacking it would be sport for her. She probably only needed ten men. 

Her thoughts of murder and mutiny were quickly muted by the return of Maester Wendamyr with her visitor in tow. 

The woman was tall and exquisite. Her robes of dark emerald flowed around her like water , her skin was coppery, her raven black hair pulled up in a complicated twist that nestled an emerald the size of a quails egg set into a silver diadem. 

“Who are you?” Yara asked getting comfortable and surveying the woman, consciously thinking to herself that she would make a very good name day present. The woman smirked at her and took the opposite seat.

“I am Santulana, Empress of Centros...though you’re people believe me to be a sea legend, some sea goddess that seduces sailors into my deep watery depths.”

Yara smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “Is that what your here to do Empress? Seduce me? No need I’d come willingly into your deep watery depths”  
The woman smiled at Yara’s forward flirtations but shook her head. “No I am not.”

Yara laughed and spread her arms wide. “I can be a lot of fun, many women and men can attest to that”

“Your Uncle said the same thing when he tried to conquer my lands and myself. Euron Greyjoy thought he could as he put it ‘make my wildest dreams come true with his cock’. I let him try ...it was entertaining watching him lose his mind, to watch him beg like a child to make it stop.”

Yara felt her stomach churn uneasily. “My uncle lost his mind in a storm.”

The empress’ face hardened, her eyes flashed dangerously. A crack of lightning flashed against her flawless face, and Yara thought she saw something terrible, haunted and bloodless. “I am the storm Yara Greyjoy”

Yara took a steadying breath cursing her drunkenness. “Are you just here to threaten me or do you have some other purpose?” Yara said evenly.

“I am here to discuss your alliance with House Targaryen”

Yara blinked and then frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You were promised independence by Daenerys Targaryen on the condition that you would prevent your people from reaving and raping. In return you ferried her armies across the narrow sea and reclaimed your islands in her name.” 

Yara shrugged. “That’s correct but House Targaryen is gone, Daenerys was murdered, by the bastard of Winterfell, she’s gone-“

“But you kept your vow, your people do not reave, they do not rape”

Yara swallowed and stared at her hardened hands. “What is dead May never die” The old words came out as a whisper but the empress had heard.

“But rises again harder and stronger” The woman finished her sentence with a knowing smile. “She did die, but I would not call it a murder, more a sacrifice ... a sacrifice to the Lord of Light. The Lord of Light brought her back. From the fire she was reborn to remake the world. Or so the priestess Kinvara would have you believe. Are you familiar with the practises of R’hollor?”

Yara let out a short sigh, her head was spinning, all of this was too much for this late hour. She had not slept and she desperately needed it. “I wouldn’t say familiar, but I’ve heard rumours. Beric Dondarrion, Jon Snow. Both men who had seemingly died and not died, depending on who you spoke to”

“They both died, Dondarrion, I believe several times. Jon Snow knew what he was doing when he plunged the dagger into his lover’s heart. The bastard of Winterfell as you wrongly name him bid her dragon go east and east he flew, the Queen was resurrected almost five years past. She lives, healthy and stronger than ever. Daenerys once again stands on the brink of war, her King at her side, awaiting the day her people return to her.”

“Wait, her King? She never had a King, who is this man she deems worthy to stand at her side?” Yara hoped that her old friend wasn’t foolish enough to allow Jon Snow back at her side. 

“He, like the Queen, has many names. The Bastard of Winterfell, Lord Commander of the nights watch, The White Wolf, The King in the North. But his true name, his true ancestry - Aegon of the House Targaryen, the sixth of his name, King of the Andals, The First Men, The Rhoynar and most recently the Free Folk. He as much a dragon as the Queen herself and they stand together. Cursed are those who try to tear them asunder. I would advise you to refrain from trying Yara Greyjoy”.

“I ... I don’t think .... how can I believe you Empress?” Yara Saïd slowly, the shock of this information slowly sinking through her numbed skin.

“Belief? But is that not the true foundation of our cause? Do you believe that the Stark’s should rule all seven kingdoms? No. Do you believe that Daenerys Targaryen is the greatest Queen of her time? Yes. So why would you not believe that this great Queen, this champion of the downtrodden, this mother of dragons and breaker of chains has returned from the dead with a fury in her heart hotter than her dragon’s flame? Belief or no belief she is alive. She will come for you. If you are against her you know what she is capable of.”

Yara knew all too well what Daenerys was capable of. It was the most magnificent horror Yara had ever witnessed. Her predictions had not been correct, King’s Landing had not fallen in a day, it had fallen in an hour.

“They need you Yara Greyjoy. Her commanders sit idly and blind to the facts. I sent my champion to parlay with them but I fear they have let their bloodlust and brutality rule their decisions. Our cause is lost if she cannot return with the Queen’s people. The longer we leave them in the east the more vulnerable they become.”

“And you think I will persuade them? I haven’t even seen her, I don’t even know if you speak the truth, how will they believe me if I can’t believe myself?”

“You won’t persuade them” Santulana said shrugging. “But I will. Gather your people Yara Greyjoy, gather your fleet and raise the dragon standard. Take me to Mereen and I will show you all your beloved Queen and together we will strive to break the wheel. Together we shall fight for peace.” She stood in a sweep of robes. “Think on it for now. I will wait.”

“And if I choose not to believe you?”

The woman smiled dangerously toying with a dark jewelled ring on her finger. “Then you may find yourself stuck on these islands”

Yara leant back in her chair huffing. “And you’re sure I can’t tempt you into my bed?”

Santulana reached out and brushed her cheek unsmiling. “You can never temper the storm my love, nothing will change that”.

 

Her Uncle’s assessment had been correct. When Yara reached the Ten Towers she knew it was her mother’s last day. She lay as thin and as frail as ever abed swaddled in wools and furs. Her translucent skin stretched tightly over her skeletal frame, her hair now as white as snow bedraggled and stiff. When Yara sunk down into the stool at her bedside, her mother stretched out a shivering hand grasping until Yara closed her own around it.

“I’m here” Yara whispered. “Mother I am here for you”

“Theon” Her mother croaked. “My little boy”

Yara sniffed, gulping back the tears. “He’s waiting for you. Maron and Rodrik too. They’re all waiting for you. It won’t be long now”

Her pale eyes seemed to gaze at faces she could not see. “Not long now” Alannys whispered.

“Mother, I ....I need your help. There is something I must do. Something I must do but I fear that...my men...they will think me mad. I made a promise and I need to keep it but I....I have doubts. I have a bad feeling. It is more war. I promised Fire and Blood”

Her mother hummed quietly and stared unseeing at her. Yara cursed to herself. Her mother was addled. Yara might as well as be telling her the weather.

“Fire and Blood” Alannys croaked her grip stiffening. “Dragons”

“Aye the Dragons. The dragons and their Queen. I promised to fight for them when needed, and I think they need me now, but I can’t be sure. What if it is a trap?”

Her mother shook her head and smiled gummily. “Not a trap. Fire and Blood. Not a trap.”

“How do you know?”

But she kept smiling and her hand gripped her ever tighter. “You liked the dragon Queen. If she needs you, you must fight.”

“Yes but she died Mother.”

Alannys shook her head. “What is dead May never die”

Silence hung in the air but her mother insisted, repeating the phrase.

“But rises harder and stronger” Yara finished. She let her head drop onto the bed, her eyes closing to the confusion that pounded in her head.

“Do it” Her mother whispered hoarsely between rattling breaths. “Do it and be brave. My daughter. Queen of the Iron Islands”

Yara felt her mother’s hand stiffen, heard the breath cease from her lungs but did not lift her head. She knew what she would see. She did not want to. So Yara squeezed her eyes tight shut as the tears came and wept for her dead mother.

 

Alannys Harlaw was laid to rest in the depths of the grey ocean at day break the following morning. The Ironborn turned out in droves as their Lady was drifted out. They had asked Yara if she had wanted to say words but Yara had declined. There were no words good enough, not that came to her anyway. She stood at the shoreline as the tide swelled around her ankles and watched as the waves consumed her mother thinking about her last words. Do it. She had said. Do it and be brave. Was she not brave? She had waged more wars than she could count, had sailed further than any other woman in the world, had reaved and raped and won. She had lost and had won, was she not brave?

The rough hand that appeared in hers made her flinch slightly and Yara looked around to see Tris.  
“She wanted me to marry you” He muttered hoarsely and Yara realised that he had been crying.

“Aye and I told you no” Yara muttered pulling her hand back but realising too late that he had sought her hand for his own comfort not hers.

“She was like a mother to me” He whispered. “Stronger than mine own. More resilient as well.”

Yara barked a laugh. “You’re not wrong”

He sighed and looked to the sky. “What now?”

Yara bit her lip making up her mind finally. Do it and be brave.

“Gather the men, and every ship we have. We sail on first tide” she turned and began to trudge back to where she knew the mysterious and formidable Santulana was watching her. “Oh and Tris ensure that you raise the Dragon Standard.”

“Why?” He called after her.

“I’d have the world know that the Queen of the Iron Islands keeps her promises, in perpetuity”

 

“You’ve chosen wisely” The Empress called above the wind. “Thank you Yara Greyjoy.”

“It’s just Yara. It’s a two month sail to Mereen you might as well call me by my first name else I might throw myself overboard with all the formality.”

Santulana smirked. “It will not take two months to get to Mereen.” 

Yara frowned. “It takes two months my lady trust me, we sail south first and then east past Dorne and the stepstones -“

The empress shook her head. “There is a faster way we shall take that route you shall see”

Yara crossed her arms frowning. Who the fuck was this woman? “Where did you say you came from again?”

“It is unimportant where I come from Yara, only where we are going and how we will get there. We will go the way I deem the fastest. Do you trust me?”

“Not at all” Yara retorted but Santulana only smiled and turned on her heel.

“Good, that is the wisest thing you can do”


	28. Irri - The severed braids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Irri proves that she is loyal to her Khaleesi.

Irri - The severed braids

Fewer had come to worship that morning and Irri noted each and every missing person. The most noticeable was Rhoqko. They had argued the night before, he had told her that her gatherings were pointless.

“The Khaleesi is dead. She is no God, why must we worship a dead woman?”

It had been different when they had first returned from across the poison water. They had built her statue where The temple had once stood. A great stone woman, naked but for her dragon wings. That was how they had seen her after her conquering. Their Khaleesi. Every morning and every night they had lit the candles and had knelt before her. Most of the men had cut off their braids, the women wept and Irri had found solace in the knowledge that Daenerys Targaryen’s Khalasar mourned for their Khaleesi as she had. 

But over the years they had grown fat and lazy. They had raided near by towns and villages and had sunk back into their ways. They would still worship but not with the intensity that only a remaining few presented. They were weak men, Irri often thought. Becoming more like the Khals that Daenerys had destroyed all those years ago.

She knelt at the front of the group that morning lighting the three largest candles. Once she was done she leant forward to kiss her Khaleesi’s stone feet. The tears fell every day without fail muddying the ground at the base of her idol. 

Irri had cut her own hair when Daenerys had died and when Missandei had been executed. The two of them had worn the braids for the battles they had won, with each victory adding to the weaves. When she had boarded the ship alone without her friends she had had Rhoqko take to her dark hair with his arakh. Irri had never let it grow long again, keeping it short, just above her shoulders. Forever a reminder of her failure to protect the ones she loved.

Irri stared around, the original Khalasar, those who had watched as the Khaleesi’s dragons had been born in the flames were in attendance. Of the original thirty only eight remained. The others had fallen in the wars for the Iron chair and Part of Irri envied them. They would be seated in the night lands with their Khaleesi, conquering all, in death they could serve her. All Irri could do was light candles at her statue and whisper words of devotion.

“Irri” Maro’s little girl asked as she climbed the small steps. “Will you tell us a story of the great Khaleesi?”

The other worshippers looked up from their kneeling and made noises of agreement. Irri smiled sadly and reached for the small girls hand. 

“What story would you like?”

“How did she become the Khaleesi of the great grass sea?”

Irri smiled, it was one of the children’s favourites. Particularly the girls. Irri began, speaking of how Daenerys had been brought before the Dosh Khaleen, how she had declared before the small Khals that it would be she that would lead the Dothraki and when they had called her crazy, when they had laughed in her face she had shown them how weak they truly were, with her old words.

“Fire and Blood” The children chanted gleefully and Irri nodded. 

“Fire and Blood. Old words of her people but all know what it means and when they are cried the Dothraki knew, we knew that we must give her the world. Give her the seven kingdoms of the West, tear down the stone houses and kill the men in their iron suits.”

“Enough stories Irri” A gruff voice said from behind her. “The dragons are gone”

Irri looked up to see Rhoqko, his face a mask of anger.

“They are not gone” Irri snapped back. “Drogon lives, it is known”

Rhoqko sneered at her. “A wild beast, what good is a wild beast? It should be put to the sword like the others. You waste your time Irri praying to a dead woman. It is time for this foolishness to stop. Pray to the real gods, our gods, not some woman who was not strong enough to keep her kingdoms”

“How dare you” Irri whispered rising to her feet. “How dare you speak of the Khaleesi like that. I should take out your tongue”

He looked down at her,anger seething from his mouth. “My tongue? You are my woman Irri, how dare you threaten such a thing. You are my woman, I am the Khal, you are nothing without me”

His hand snatch the nape of her neck scrunching painfully in her hair yanking downwards so that her eyes were forced to meet his. 

“Release her” A voice called from the crowd and Rhoqko spun around dragging Irri with him. She cried out in pain dropping to her knees and cursing as they split on the stone steps.

The voice came from a man smaller than most, his head was entirely shaved of hair. He wore dusty flowing robes and beside him stood a woman that Irri recognised. Her scarlet robes seemed to glow as they moved through the parting crowd. Behind them followed Westerosi men in their iron suits.

“Who the fuck are you” Rhoqko snarled.

“You stand in the presence of Kinvara, the high priestess, the first servant of the lord of light” The small man spoke in dothraki but his accent was strange, not from Essos.

Rhoqko shrugged. “What the fuck are you doing here witch?”

Kinvara stepped forward and smiled. “Release the Queen’s handmaiden Rhoqko son of Markho. It is time for you to return to your service for House Targaryen”

Rhoqko snorted but did not release Irri. She knelt awkwardly willing the tears not to fall. “I will tell you what I have told this bitch. The dragons are gone, whatever magic, whatever lies you are trying to spread they will not work on us. We have fought the Great War and we’re treated like savages even after our sacrifice. No reward no respect. We are done.” He spat on the floor at the priestesses feet.

The priestess eyes moved to Irri. “Daenerys Targaryen lives Irri. Will you join her side? Will you resume your service for your Khaleesi?”

Rhoqko’s grip loosened slightly and Irri felt the tears flow freely now, happiness filled her heart the thought of Khaleesi, alive and ready to fight filled her with pride and hope. “You do not lie to me Priestess, you have seen her?”

Kinvara smiled serenely. “I was there when she woke, I cared for her as her child grew within her belly, she is alive and well, the fire burns brighter within her than before.”

Relief washed over Irri in waves but before she could speak Rhoqko was laughing cruelly. “You crazy cunt. You are raving. She is dead. The dragons are dead. Leave with your iron men before I see how well you take to my horse.”

Kinvara’s smile died but instead of replying she looked to sky and all of a sudden Irri felt it. The heaviness in the air she had not felt in years. It was hot and heavy and dangerous and Irri looked to the grey clouds as a cry louder and more terrible than ever before cracked through the still air.

When Drogon has been a babe she had been able have him perch on her shoulder like a small bird. She had watched the dragon grow larger and larger over the years and When Irri had last seen Drogon it had been in King’s Landing, he had been larger than the crumbling wall he had perched on as his mother addressed her people. Now after five years the eldest dragon’s wings alone spanned the width of both the east and west markets casting all below into shadow. The great beast roared to the sky as he landed in a whirl of sand and dust sending the crowds scattering.

Irri scrambled to her feet beaming ear to ear. “We must go!” She cried. “Our Khaleesi lives, saddle your horses we must fight now we must go to-“

A fist collided across her face and Rhoqko bore down on her. “You do not give commands. You are nothing more than a bed slave, you are nothing” his fist plunged into her stomach and Irri fell to the ground winded. His hands shoved her face into the dirt and Irri choked on the dust as he growled. “Let me show this witch that you are nothing. Nothing but a whore to please me” she felt him grope at her skirts pushing them up and over her hips. Irri screamed blindly her eyes filled with dirt as she tried to scramble away. She could hear protests, Drogon roaring, she heard steel being drawn from belts. No. She thought. No she will not let this happen. It was forbidden to draw steel in the sacred city.Her hands scraped the uneven rocks until finally one from the steps came loose. 

Irri twisted quickly, using all her strength, the rock came crashing down on Rhoqkos head with a bloody splat. Straddling his shoulders she continued to crash it into his skull. Again and again screaming like a feral animal. Years of oppression, years of abuse and finally she had her vengeance.

“I. AM. NOT. NOTHING” She snarled as the blood spattered across her face. “I am Irri! Handmaiden to the Great Khaleesi.” She panted as she stood and dug her nails into his painted vest and proceeded to drag him through the crowd. She had always been strong, always tamed the wildest of horses. Dragging Rhoqko through the dirt was nothing. “You are no Khal. You are not fit to be blood rider. You have failed the Khaleesi, now.... face her wrath.”

She stopped before Drogon, the black shadow looming menacingly above them and stared up into his molten eyes. Do you remember me? She thought silently. Irri squared her shoulders and spoke the little dragon language that Missandei had taught her all those years ago.

“Ziry qringaomagon aōha muña.....Dracarys”

Drogon stared at her intently and then to the man on the ground barely stirring, then rearing his head he bathed Rhoqko son of Markho in black and red flames reducing his bloodied form to ash.  
Irri turned staring out at the silent crowd, heart thumping in her ears.

“Is there any other who wishes to fail the Khaleesi?” She cried but all before her held their tongues. “Good, prepare the horses we ride at dawn”

Behind her Drogon roared his approval as the rest cheered and Irri felt herself smile as the ashes of her former husband blew around her feet. She met the priestess’ gaze who returned her smile with approval.

Suddenly a small package seemingly fell from the sky and Irri looked up as Drogon stared down at her, he cocked his enormous head and Irri bent down to unwrap the scarlet silk. 

Seven bells lay nestled in the wrappings and Irri felt tears role down her dirty face. She knew these bells, she knew what their purpose was, and it was all the proof she needed to know that Daenerys Targaryen lived.

You knew,She thought staring across at the stone Khaleesi, the goddess to which she had prayed to for five years. 

You knew... and you sent your son to me, to give me strength. I am coming Khaleesi, we are coming, I will be with you soon. Blood of my blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valyrian translation
> 
> “He has failed your mother....Dracarys”
> 
> So like Arianne, Irri is alive and well and sick of men’s bullshit. She does not see herself as a Khaleesi, but she is loyal and fierce just like her Queen.


	29. Daario - The Traitor’s Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daario serves as Master of Law and is faced with a deal that could change his plans drastically

Daario - The Traitors Trial

He had been dreaming of her when they woke him. Her smile, the way she laughed. It was the same every night just her face, perfect and ethereal. In his dreams she was always surrounded by flame, this goddess, this conqueror that was once his, and as she stepped towards him through the flames the skin at her breast would split, dark blood would pour from her heart and as she would reach him, her body would fall to the ground, dead and frozen and gone. Five years of the same dream and he still awoke sweating and furious. 

He shifted between the two naked woman as Red Flea hurriedly whispered about the arrival of a sell sword.

“He says he brings a gift from the Magister of Pentos.” The general jabbered as Daario extracted himself from naked limbs and pulled on clothes.

“What the fuck does that fat man want?” Daario asked as he left his rooms and followed him through the pyramid towards the throne room.

He had been a member of the high council of Mereen for six years now. When Daenerys had left for war Daario had sat in the pyramid with a selection of high lords and peasants. They had debated for days, firstly reading out the clear instruction left by the Queen, and as per her direction, elected three high councillors and seven low councillors. Daario served as Master of Law. Hera Xolanos served as Mistress of Coin, a girl of six and ten who had been the daughter of a great lord and had given up her wealth to marry a former slave . The position of Master of War had taken longer to decide and the position had been left empty until the unsullied had returned.

That had been one of the darkest days Mereen had seen for years. Greyworm had led his men in a funeral procession through the streets. An empty wagon had represented each man who had fallen in the wars. With no bodies able to be recovered, a helm and spear were placed on top along with a severed collar, forefronted by two elaborately decorated wagons draped in black and ruby silks to represent the Queen and her advisor. Missandei’s body Greyworm later explained had been recovered from kings landing, reassembled and put to the flame by Drogon. Daenerys had interred her beside her own mother in the royal crypts that apparently lay on Dragonstone. The Queen’s own body had never been found, according to Greyworm by the time he had reached the throne room in the red keep, Drogon had flown off with his mother, all that was left was her murderer, apparently sobbing into the bloody snow, his Queen’s blood still warm on his hands. 

They had brought the empty wagons into the great arena and had set them all aflame, and Daario and Hera had proclaimed Greyworm to be the master of war. Now every year since on that day the people of Mereen would don black and red in memory of their fallen Queen. 

It had taken months for Greyworm to open up about it all, Daario had plied him with wine and the unsullied general Commander had told him everything. Of the battle against the dead men, of the bitter North, of the Stark’s and their callousness, of Cersei Lannister and her traps, of Missandei and her death, and the final battle, the bitter victory, and finally of the summit in the dragon pit. He had brought fourth the evidence of the treason against Daenerys. Scrolls and scrolls that had been found in the spiders rooms dictating the back deals that were being dealt between the Lady of Winterfell, Cersei Lannister, Lord Varys and Euron Greyjoy. The Stark woman had gone behind her brothers back, striking bargains to ensure Daenerys’ downfall using the secret of Jon Snow’s true identity as a Targaryen to secure a swift coup. She had shared the travel plans of the Queen to Cersei Lannister in return for the promise of an indépendant North, there by ensuring that Missandei would be captured and executed, she had described in detail the loyalty the interpreter had for Daenerys, even gave detail about Missandei’s relationship with Greyworm. 

When Daario has read this and had heard all Greyworm had to say he punched the walls bloody, had implored Greyworm to raise his men and plan an attack on Westeros but the unsullied had shook his head.

“I am Master of War, appointed first by my Queen and then affirmed by the council of Mereen. Daenerys called for us to break the wheel and that is what I shall do. Slavery will die, oppression will perish and I will do it all in her name. I will do it until there are no slaves in Essos, and every man, woman and child will know that they are free by the grace of her majesty Daenerys Targaryen, and they will remain free by the power that her name holds even after her death. Only then will we set our sights on Westeros. There will come a day when the Stark’s and the Lannister’s will think they are safe and happy and their joy will then to ashes. I will smile on that day, that will be the day I burn Jon Snow alive. Everywhere we go evil men and women will die and they will rue the day they decided to murder my Queen.”

He had done just that. The master of War was ruthless and cold blooded. Yunkai, Astapor, Qarth, Norvos, Lys and Myr had all been purged of oppression and of slavery. Everywhere The unsullied went their numbers grew and the cities fell and Daario would follow with the high council and build anew. New Laws, new trade, new lives. Men were trained throughly and were either enlisted into the unsullied as infantry or the second sons as Calvary. Greyworm had travelled to Naarth on many occasion. He had learnt their customs, their laws and their way of life and in return the Naatheen, within a two year time frame had become more infamous than the faceless men, moving silently across the lands targeting slave traders and pirates and delivering what Greyworm liked to call Missandei’s sweet sleep. A poison milked from the Naatheen butterfly and tasteless in any food or drink. They died alone and in pain.

 

Greyworm was waiting for him in his seat at the foot of dais. They never sat at the top. 

“Do you know anything about this?” Daario yawned as he took his own chair behind the painted table of Essos. 

Grey shook his head. “No but the ship came in an hour ago from Pentos”

Daario ruffled his hair and reached for a cup of wine wincing slightly at the sour taste. “Well bring in the sellsword”

The knight was westerosi but appeared to have lived in Essos for quite some time. His armour was rusted, his surcoat old and tattered. His red hair was peppered with grey and was closely cut to his head. The only thing elaborate about the man was the sword on his hip, the pommel was that of three dragons, set with rubies and dark obsidian. Daario knew this man’s reputation but had never actually met. 

“Connington” He stated and the man nodded. “Welcome to Mereen, I am however confused as to why you are here, I thought you were in the employ of Illyrio Mopatis, it is a risk on your life showing yourself in this place.”

The man shrugged. “I know the risks Naharis I was sent by Illyrio himself. I bring you a gift ... of sorts.... in exchange for a deal”

“It is not a gift if you want something in exchange” Grey snapped.

Connington snickered. “I suppose not , still the Magister is tired of your efforts to liberate his people. Theydo not wish to be liberated, he hopes that what I have brought you will make you reconsider.”

Daario and Grey shifted impatiently. “Unfortunately for the Magister and for you there is no reconsideration when it comes to the purchase and profit of human lives.” He stated, letting his hand wander to the hilt of his arakh. 

Connington smirked. “You haven’t seen what I’ve brought you yet” He turned to his guards and nodded . From the doorway came a great deal of scuffling until a man and woman were brought forward in chains between four men. They were pushed forward into the light and beside him Greyworm seemed to recoil angrily. 

Daario did not recognise either of them but he knew that by Grey’s reaction they were of importance.

“Are you going to introduce them?” Daario asked raising his eyebrows in expectation, but before the knight could open his mouth Greyworm turned to him. 

“You are looking at Arya of House Stark, the sister of Sansa and Brandon Stark and cousin of Daenerys’ murderer. I was told, you died in a storm”

The woman glowered up through her black eye. “My crew did, I survived”

“What are you doing in Essos?” Greyworm snapped but Daario waved his hand pointing to the man beside her. He was taller than Everyman in the room and looked strong. He appeared to be shaking with anger.

“Who is he?”

“No one” Arya Stark blurted. “He isn’t part of the deal, he’s got nothing to do with this, please let him go.”

“He is Gendry Baratheon, of Storm’s End” Greyworm called over the Stark girl’s pleas. 

Daario frowned. “Baratheon?”

“Yes” Gendry spat. “Our Queen legitimised me after the battle of Winterfell. Robert Baratheon was my father, my mother was a whore”

Daario chuckled at his temper. “Our Queen? If Daenerys Targaryen was indeed the Queen you chose then you would be standing in Connington’s place with this girls head at your feet. But I suppose treachery, disloyalty and usurping is in your blood”

Baratheon snarled and glowered at him.

“Daenerys Targaryen is my Queen, I am here because of her, as is Arya, yet none of you seem to want to listen. She’s alive. She’s building an army to which I have already added my own men and she will reclaim her crown with Aegon Targaryen at her side. We came here to see if you’ll join us, if she hears that you have poisoned her cousin by law and the king’s favourite surrogate sibling I am sure she will not be pleased. End this now my lords and sail with us West. Join the cause and we need not speak of the atrocities you have showed Lady Stark and myself to the King and Queen.”

Daario took in his words in a beat of silence and then looked to Grey, whose face was a mask on indifference. The laughter erupted from Daario without him fully intending it to. It echoed off the walls of the throne room until his stomach began to cramp. He watched as Arya Stark’s beaten and bloodied face fell in despair and she stared up at them both.

“Please...you have to believe us” She muttered. The chair beside Daario scraped violently across the stones and Grey towered over the Stark woman snarling viscously.

“Why would I believe you, why would I give you any mercy? Your family took EVERYTHING from me. You took my men, you took my Queen, my closest friends and the woman I loved. Your people looked at me like dirt when I had come to save them. Your sister sold Missandei for a crown, sold Rhaegal and Daenerys. You should be lucky I did not run you through with my spear the moment I saw you. Yet you come here begging like your bastard brother did, telling me lies about my Queen. How dare you even utter her name in my presence.” Grey heaved out an angry curse in Valyrian and turned back to Daario. Here they were, Daenerys’ last generals, fighting her cause for her.

Daario stood and cleared his throat. “We will sail for Westeros Lord Baratheon, do not fear.” He stared down at Arya Stark waiting until the guards surrounded them, restraining the bastard Baratheon. “With her head on a spike.”

Baratheon roared in anger but Daario shouted above his rage. “Arya of House Stark, I, Daario Nahaaris, Master of Law and Commander of the second sons, sentence you to die, for the crimes committed by your brother, sister and cousin against Daenerys of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, May she rest in peace.”

Arya Stark collapsed, whether in despair or exhaustion he did not know. He signalled to the guards to take them both away and he turned to Connington who was smirking. 

“How will you do it?” The old knight asked and Daario pointed to his hip. 

“With that sword. We both know who it belongs to, hand it over”

The knight frowned and then slowly unbuckled it from his hip and handing it to him. Daario took it and upon seeing his expression chuckled. “You’ll get it back”

“And Baratheon?”

Greyworm shook his head. “He did nothing against the Queen. He can go free after she is dead.”

“And Illyrio’s deal?”

Daario shrugged. “We will give him a year of peace. After we have dealt with the Stark’s we might change our minds. You should join us Connington, give up on that fat fuck”

Connington shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’ll be dead before long and I quite like Pentos. I will not serve under a Baratheon for as long as I live. Westeros holds nothing for me anymore.”

“Fine. Grey instruct your generals to announce to the people that there is to be an execution at dawn in the great arena. Let them all see the Queen’s justice be served to House Stark.”

Grey nodded and exited quickly, his face just as stoney as before. He knew that it wasn’t the death he wanted, but it was close and would satisfy both their blood lust’s for now.

“There’s a good brothel beside the pit Connington, you might find something you like in there” Daario snickered as he turned his back on the Westerosi. “Although if it’s boys you want you might want to try the harbour”

He left the knight to blush as he climbed up the steps, his bones aching with age. As he passed her throne he felt a lump rise in his throat.

Does that please you your grace? He thought staring at the mahogany. I will fight for you, always, you were a fool not to take me with you. My foolish beautiful conqueror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Now I am not trying to vilify Daario or Greyworm but you have got to understand their position without the knowledge that Dany is alive. 
> 
> Oh and in my opinion there is no way that Sansa and Bran had nothing to do with Euron’s trap at Dragonstone. 
> 
> Also how did Euron and Cersei know that Missandei was of any worth to the Queen without Sansa and Varys’ information


	30. Arya - Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Mereen gather for an execution

Arya - Do not stand at my grave and weep

She didn’t see Gendry again. They had half carried her in an opposite direction from him, down into the depths of the pyramid. The further they had gone down the less she could hear Gendry’s struggles. It gave her a strange sense of righteousness hearing him tear apart the men that tried to subdue him; That there was one last person in the world who would fight for her.

The cell they led her to was pitch black, a stone box with no window and only one solid door. The guards chained her to the wall by her ankle, but she did not struggle. It was no use now. It was real, it was happening. She would die, like her father, trying to do the right thing. Mayhap that was all she could ask for. That and a quick death. Arya had suffered enough pain in her life, enough hurt. Surely, she had earned that.

She wanted to tell Gendry what she wanted done with her body, but Arya knew she would have no choice in that matter. Law would decree that she be interred beneath Winterfell, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be under there all rot and dust. She wanted to be burned. She wanted her ashes scattered in the forests and rivers, in the oceans, all the places she had travelled. By the time her head reached Jon and Daenerys it would be rotting she knew, she wondered what they would do with it. The thought made her laugh hysterically and then cry. She would never see her brother’s face again. Would never meet his children. Never see him happy, never see him as the Great King she knew he would be. Arya would never know her good sister, she would never get to apologise to Daenerys. Never know the woman who made Jon happier than ever before. She should have known her, she should have loved her.

Sleep did not come. Ironically. Her body was weak, her head was spinning but maybe subconsciously she knew would soon sleep forever. Arya instead stared into the blackness and tried to remember her best memories. She remembered Bran as he used to be, always climbing, always smiling and hanging onto her skirts as they adventure around Winterfell together. She remembered Robb, the way he would smirk when she was being told off for something she shouldn’t be doing. Remembered how Robb, Theon and Jon always left their tourney swords out after training so that she might be able to practise. She remembered her mother, always trying to tame her unruly hair and without thought she reached up to the knotted mess, combing through with her fingers. Her mother wouldn’t want her to die looking like a street rat. Arya had never been good with her hair, the years in Centros had been the only time where she had begun to enjoy having her hair done. Suitably braided but all together reasonably lovely. Clumsily, and awkward from the heavy manacles around her wrists she bound together the straggles of her hair into a braid. Her scalp seared where she had been constantly yanked, from sitting to standing and back again. With callous fingers she dabbed gently at her face, feeling the cuts and swollen lumps. Her jaw ached, her smashed teeth had shredded the inside of her cheeks and she knew that her nose was broken. The pain was lesser now, maybe the shock of her looming execution had eased it. It would soon be over it was true, and she knew that she must be brave, as her father had been, as her brother and mother, as Jon had been. Although she wouldn’t get to come back, not without a head. She knew enough about death now to understand that.

Her musings were interrupted with a jolt as the stone door was slid open, revealing a torch lit passageway. Four unsullied greeted her, their masked helms shielding their faces. Arya could feel her heart thrumming like a bird’s and the icy realisation of her impending demise broke her out in clammy chills; but she stood. Despite the chains and the bonds, she stood and forced her chin up to meet the soldier’s eyes. They will not know my fear, she thought as they moved forward to release the chain from the wall.

They did not go the same way they had come, and even now Arya could still feel the effects the poison was having on her body. Her head spun, the growing light of dawn seemed to be clear and blurry all at once. In truth she felt drunk and she was unsure whether she was shocked, scared or already dying.  
They led Arya to one of the many entrances to the Pyramid, had she had more clarity she would be able to know which entrance, whether it was North, or South, West or East. But she didn’t so she followed like the chained puppet she was outside into the dawned sunlight.  
It was warm, warmer than she was used to, and yet Arya was still clammy, her legs were becoming heavier, stiffer and less willing to do her bidding. From the high steps she could see almost the entire city facing out into the desert beyond. The road, she stood at the helm of, lead straight to a great arena, rather like the Dragon Pit of King’s Landing, but larger and more intact. The streets were empty but for lines of unsullied, their spears tilted slightly like an arch for her to walk beneath. She took a steadying breath and rolled her shoulders back.  
It was time.

The walk took longer than she expected, the heat was beating down on them. The clang of distant bells matched her pace, and she focused on breathing to trying to maintain an element of calm. Each time she passed a row of unsullied, they turned and followed her, blocking the path taken and creating a morose procession through the empty streets. The more they approached the arena, Arya could make out a buzz of noise. Cheering, Singing and Drums all seemed to find their way to her, and her stomach twisted in knots. In her delirium she saw the Sept of Baelor once again, saw the crowd who had cheered for her father’s head. How history would repeat itself on this day. Her father had tried to do the right thing and had failed. She would die in the same manner. It was almost maddening.

Nothing could prepare her for the noise that erupted when she entered the arena. Every seat was full, Soldiers and Common Folk alike roared and Arya could feel the tears well in her eyes. No. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Let her die with a sword in her hand, a spear, or bow. Let her die in battle. Not in a foreign city. Not for telling the truth.

Daario Naharis, Greyworm and Jon Connington all stood on a raised dais staring at her as she made her approach. Be brave, Arya told herself. It will be over soon. Just be brave. Her heart was quickening, her panic was rising, and she thought of Gendry, wherever he was, of the man she loved. Do not mourn me bull, she said to herself. There is work to be done. There is no time for weeping.  
Naharis had in his hand Blackfyre, its ruby stones glinted in the sun, the deep carvings running red through the black Valyrian steel. She stared at the three men in turn, determined not to let them see her fear and cowardice which was threatening to break through her cool demeanour at any second. The wind was picking up, but she could still hear the crowds roaring for her head.

“morghon naejot se zokla” They cried “morghon naejot se nāpāstre” It was like a song. A wild and terrible song, a battle cry. Kill the wolf. Kill the Traitor.

“In the name of my Queen, Daenerys of House Targaryen, I sentence you to die Arya Stark. If you have any last words, now would be the time” Naharis spoke evenly, and the crowd silenced momentarily. Arya took a breath. Words. Where were her words? She wanted to cry and rage and tell them they were wrong, but she could not, they would not listen. She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat.  
“Valar Morghulis.”

If the men were shocked, she knew that phrase they did not show it. Instead they parted revealing a headsman block. Now the pain was coming, the fear. Her knees shook violently as she knelt. She felt Greyworm lean her down, angling her head so that it jutted out over the edge. The tears poured down her face now, as the sounds overwhelmed her. The wind howled and the bells rung loudly as the crowd cheered, the banging of their feet like horses hooves in a stampede. 

Arya felt the blade, gently touch her exposed neck as Daario Naharis measured up his blow. She clenched her eyes shut blocking out all sound but her thumping heart.

Do it. She wanted to scream. Do it now as she heard the crackle of worn leather as the blade was lifted in one whoosh into the air.

She held her breath in anticipation, counting in her head, repeating in her head, not the names of the people she meant to kill, but those of her family.

Father, Mother, Robb, Jon, Sansa, Bran, Rickon, Theon, Maester Luwin, Old Nan, Nymeria, Mycah, Syrio, Yorren, Lommy, Hot Pie…Gendry. Gendry. Gendry.

“Now” She whispered. Please. 

What did she say to the God of Death?

Today.

 

The blow Arya was anticipating never came, but surprisingly darkness did come and with it an almighty crash. The cheers had turned to screams but Arya refused to open her eyes. This is death she thought, it is strange and queer and loud. She would not open her eyes, that was at least, until the dragon let out an almighty roar.

Arya’s eyes snapped open in a flash and her stomach lurched in shock. Drogon had landed, shielding her from Daario and the others, who had all fallen back into the dirt, with his wing. As Daario tried to approach again, the dragon roared in his face and Arya, sitting back on her knees, tears pouring uncontrollably down her face saw why she had thought the crowd sounded like a stampeed. At least a thousand horses filled the floor of the arena, all mounted by Dothraki, and between them seemed to be the ironborn pushing their way to the front.

“If you serve House Targaryen as we do” A voice, that she could not see, rang out. “Then you will call off this execution…the girl speaks the truth.”

“What would you know Priestess.” Arya could hear Grey worm retort and it took a while to realise that they were speaking in Valyrian.

“I brought her from the flame Torgo Nudo. I am here, as are the Dothraki and the Westermen on her behalf. See for yourself, the dragon protects the Stark woman because it is what the Queen has commanded.”

There was a murmuring and Arya tried to escape from under Drogon’s large belly and wingspan, but he hissed at her attempt, shifting to block her way. As he did a small package fell onto the block where her head had just sat. With trembling hands, she reached for it, unravelling the red ribbon to reveal a scroll of parchment and a ring. She recognised the ring, she had noticed Daenerys Targaryen wear it many times in Winterfell. Wrought iron and knotted at the top. The parchment only bore one delicately written word.

Thankyou

Arya did not hear the rest of commotion, she did not see who had come to rescue her, instead she felt as her emotions and exhaustion took over her, crippling at her knees as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed beneath Daenerys Targaryen’s Dragon.

 

The Empress was the first person, Arya saw when she had awoken, this time in a large comfortable bed with soft silken sheets. She sat in her immaculately regal robes, a box of potions in her lap as she tended to Arya’s wounds.

“I should have gone with you” Santulana sighed as she cupped Arya’s face. “I was foolish to think that you would not fail”

Arya grimaced. “If you’re here to insult me then you can go –“

“No, I am here to apologise Arya Stark. You weren’t ready and I should have gone with you to protect you.”

Arya’s tears dropped into the pretty silk coverlets and she sniffed. “what happened?”

Santulana smiled warmly. “It appears mine and my sister’s ability to coordinate travel plans have not failed us in all the years we have been apart.”

“Your sister?” Arya croaked, confused.

“Yes, Arya we have spoken of this, Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis. We arrived by chance at the same time. I from the west and she from the North.”

“How?” Arya’s head was thumping painfully, she knew she should go back to sleep, but she wanted to know.

“Yara Greyjoy and her fleet. She has joined the cause, although I fear she is wroth with me. You see I refrained from telling her that it maybe you we needed to save. Still she is here with her fleet and her men. Your knightly retinue and Rey, on the other hand left Pentos the minute you and Lord Baratheon were taken and headed straight for Volantis where they met Kinvara and Drogon the dragon. Kinvara had already seen in her flames what had happened and summoned her priests. They followed the dragon to Vaes Dothrak.” The Empress chuckled mildly. “It appears Drogon has great fondness of his namesake’s people, and believes a fight is not worth fighting without the horse people.”

Arya snorted. “You can’t know that”

Santulana gave her a stern glare. “You forget who I am girl. I understand the minds of far more than you. Beast and Being.”

Arya lay back against the pillows and frowned. “You convinced them then? Greyworm and Naharis.”

“Daenerys convinced them Arya. Drogon would never have made that trip on a whim. She sent him, but I am sure you know that.”

“It was all a blur” Arya admitted.

“Yes, it would be, you were very unwell Arya. So unwell that even the dragon sensed it. You have been under the influence of poison for a month now, any longer and you would have died.”

“But you’ve fixed me up again?” Arya nodded to her box of potions.

“You’re teeth at least. You will feel weak for some while, I am afraid, I would tell you to watch what you eat, but you already have someone doing that for you.”

“Gendry” Arya whispered her heart swelling in her chest. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

The Empress nodded serenely. “Oh yes, wroth at all of us for not letting him to see you, but I needed to make sure you were healthy before he came. We needed to speak alone. But his influence has been noted. You have been given the Queen’s own apartments at a start. Although I am sure the Lord Baratheon would much prefer your captor’s heads.”

“He can’t have them” Arya blurted out. “We need to draw a line. Daenerys needs them. So does Jon”

“I am glad you are seeing clearly.” She rose. “ I must attend a meeting now, rest now Arya Stark, you will need your strength.”

Santulana reached over her like her mother used to, pulling the covers up to her chin and stroking her hair. “You’ve done well. We are at the beginning of the end. A new era is soon to begin.”


	31. Daenerys I - Death Shall Hold No Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drogon Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I must apologise for such the long wait for update, I have had a lot of personal things I have had to deal with but now I am feeling a little bit more human and inspired have another chapter.
> 
> This POV is split into two parts so have part 1!
> 
> Smut from the start so if you’re at work etc be warned! 
> 
> Thank you for your ongoing support and your wonderful comments

Daenerys - Death shall hold no dominion

Her scream muffled into the pillows as her husband mercilessly ploughed into her core, one hand tightly wrapped in her silky hair, the other finding purchase on her left hip. Her once still heart beat faster and faster as she felt her inner walls begin to clench around his hardened cock. Jon hauled her upright, the hand in her hair moving to cup her breasts, the other snaking around to circle her clit, his fingers brushing against where they were joined. Dany cursed in rapid Valyrian as Jon roared his release matching her own peak.

Jon held her tightly against his chest, his teeth that had bitten down into the flesh of her shoulder were replaced by kisses as Dany came down from her dizzying high.

“I love you” He whispered quietly nuzzling into her hair. Dany smiled to herself tilting her head back to look into his dark grey eyes.

“I-“ But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Her heartbeat thrummed heavily and yet she felt as if she was soaring, high above the world, the blood in her veins heating suddenly like dry kindling to a flame. The breath hitches in her throat and suddenly she was scrambling off the bed pulling on Jon’s long forgotten undershirt and stepping out onto the frosted walk way which over looked Aemon’s Port and the Fjord beyond.

“Daenerys?” Jon called unmistakably confused and annoyed, but she could not call back. Her hands gripped the icy balustrade as she gazed out at the unmistakable wing span that was her eldest and most loyal son. A dark shadow in the morning light that roared into the frozen air signalling his return. Below him just on the horizon more ships than she could count all their sails bearing one sigil.

The three headed dragon.

Rhaegal was the first to welcome his brother home, raring up into the air with a triumphant roar and the two dragons landed swiftly atop their cliff nudging each other affectionately Daenerys beamed as she trudged through the long grass towards them both, Jon quick on her heel. She reached for his great snout and her eldest son hummed happily under his mother’s touch. 

“Hello you” Dany muttered smiling slightly. “Good trip?”

Dragon huffed as he lowered his shoulder beckoning her to climb atop. She felt like a girl again scrambling up into the scaly expanse of Drogon’s shoulders. 

“Are you coming?” She called down to Jon.

He looked up at her uncertainly. “Daenerys, they’re your people. They....they only know me as your killer”

Her heart broke, the memory of sharp cold steel leaving her breathless. “Jon-“ He was right, she knew it, the happiness at the prospect of seeing her people, her closest friends seemed to dissipate as the new dilemma began to present itself. She cleared her throat thinking quickly. “If they are here it means Arya is as well.”

Her husband looked out over the cliffs to the oncoming ships. “I’m not the brother she once knew” 

“She’s not the sister you once knew. She never will be, but she’s here fighting our cause, despite us not asking her to. Arya is the aunt to our children Jon. The only aunt they will ever have”.

There seemed to be an eternal battle within her husband, one that she had never really understood. The battle of his two selves. The Bastard of Winterfell and The Dragon King. Dany had never had the same battle, she had always been one. Targaryen. Queen. Mother of Dragons and the rest, but Jon...Jon was different. Daenerys knew the love he had for Arya. The day they had been told about her “death” he had broken, secluding himself for days and days. 

Dany understood the hardship he was facing. For her people to respect him, to love him and fear him as they should their King, he would need to be Aegon Targaryen. He would need to show his power, his strength, his ruthlessness, but the arrival of Arya Stark called to his other side. Jon Snow. The man who loved his little sister more than anything in his life. Dany waited, waited for him to pick a man, atop that windy cliff. He turned to her second son and Dany saw it. His expression glass over as if a sculpture was grooving out the planes of his face and as he climbed atop Rhaegal with more grace and dexterity than ever before Daenerys knew.

There is the Dragon King.

So they soared. King and Queen. The last Targaryens. Over the icy water casting shadows upon the thousands of ships that sailed below. At the sight of both dragons, her people cheered with such fervour that she felt the long awaited tears fall down her cheeks. Taking Drogon back up the fleet she spotted the figurehead. Balerion was the only ship of her original fleet of three to survive. Drogon rolled to the side, allowing his mother to catch a glimpse of her generals and oldest friends. They looked up at her as she swept past, their faces unreadable at such a distance but she had never felt more alive. 

They landed quickly just as the ships began to dock and the armies began to disembark onto row boats to make their way to port. Only Balerion and thirty five other ships were able to dock at port, the others anchored in the fjord, back as far as the eye could see.

Gendry Baratheon was first to approach, a boy who must have been his squire holding the golden and black banner of his house aloft and Daenerys was pleased to see below his own sigil flew a smaller but distinctive three headed dragon. Beside him Arya Stark.

She was no longer the surly looking young girl who had trudged about Winterfell, her face full of suspicion, her hand quick to draw blade. Arya was truly a woman now, and truly beautiful, even more so than her sister, but beneath the Rich dark hair and high cheek bones Dany could plainly see that something was off. Dark shadows were inlayed beneath her clear grey eyes. The whispers of hair that framed her face did not quite hide the yellowing bruising and black cuts lining her temple. Her jaw was badly bruised and despite the high collar she wore Dany caught a glimpse of fading welts as if a manacle had been placed about her neck for a long period of time. Daenerys wanted to cry at the sight of her. The girl had looked in better shape following the Great War, now here she stood in clothes that were too loose for her, too pale and too beaten. Daenerys knew who would have done it. Arianne Martel had had the right of it. Her people as brave and as loyal as they were, were blood thirsty and it seemed Arya Stark had bore the brunt of it.

Anger welled inside her but she took a steadying breath to contain it. Dany knew she had been right to send Drogon and also knew that there was far more to be said on the matter. But not now.

They stepped forward together surrounded by a small retinue of knights in storm lander surcoats and both sunk down in respective bow and curtesy. 

“My Queen, My King” Gendry proclaimed hoarsely and Dany noticed that he too was battered and bruised. “The Stormlands are yours to command, House Baratheon is yours to command. Your laws are mine, my people are yours and I am yours from this day until the end of days” He withdrew his war hammer and placed it at their feet.

“Rise my Lord” Jon began reaching for his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you”

“Aye and you too your grace, and you my Queen, I must apologise for my slow travel, we came into some difficulty in the east”

Daenerys had to commend the boy, his diplomacy was faultless despite the look of pure anger clear as day upon his features.

“All of which shall be addressed” Daenerys returned her eyes returning to Arya Stark who stood her eyes trained on the ground.

“It appears we owe you a great deal Arya” Daenerys began and she felt Jon shift beside her, he too was surveying her she knew.

Arya’s head snapped up. “No you owe me nothing. It is I who owe you” Her hand rummaged in a pocket and then stepped forward hand unfurling to reveal Rhaella’s ring. “It is I who owe you, and not for the first time”

Dany took the ring sliding it swiftly on her finger. “I once knew a man who travelled a very long way to see me, to serve me. He defied his family to do so. I gave him the highest position in office and he betrayed me at every turn. Tell me Arya Stark, are you going to do the same? Are you going to betray me? Are you going to betray the King?”

“I am the last of the Stark’s, my brothers are all dead, my sister a cheap imitation of Cersei Lannister. I’m the last one.” She turned to Jon. “I know you are my cousin, and my King first and foremost, but you’re all that I have left. You put your trust in her, a stranger and in that trust you have found happiness and a family” She sniffed. “I should have put my trust in you Daenerys and for that I will always be sorry. I do not deserve your kindness, the North does not deserve your kindness, nor my family and yet you sent your dragon to save me when you didn’t need to. You will flatten the north, the country my family has led for thousands of years. I am the second daughter of a second son by law the north is not mine to give so long as my sister lives. But once she is gone it is yours, both of yours. Do with it what you will”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell” Jon muttered. “I would not displace you from your home over the crimes of your sister. You have shown true loyalty Arya and for that we are grateful. There will be war and we will need you, but for now let me as your brother, your cousin....your King, welcome you home”

Arya seemed to sag into the hug that Jon enveloped her in and Dany could see the tears falling down her cheeks burying into Jon’s cloak. They released each other and Dany held out a hand to squeeze hers, smiling as she did so. 

“My advisor Freida has prepared rooms for you, go and get settled and we shall speak later, you can meet the children.”

The Stark woman’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Lyanna and Daeron. “I should like that very much your grace”

Behind their small retinue then came the unmistakable swagger of Yara Greyjoy sandwiched between Kinvara and a similarly elegant woman in dark green robes.

“I was told you needed a navy” Yara began smirking. “But when I got to Mereen I realised you didn’t really need one, it seems your master of war has succeeded in quite the campaign. Now I come here and I see you have even more ships.”

Dany raised her eyebrows. “And you’re telling me this-“

“You have the largest navy in the world now your grace, close to four thousand ships. Not even Euron had that many. You know I am an able Captain, and have always been loyal to you” her gaze flickered over time Jon with such disdain anger ignited immediately within Daenerys. “Let me command your fleet your grace.”

“We command our Navy Yara” Daenerys snapped annoyed slightly at her audacity. “But we are in need of a master of ships” She turned to Jon. “Would the King agree?”

Jon surveyed Yara his jaw flexing and then gave a kurt nod.”Aye we could use your tenacity and determination on the council, it would be an honour to have you”

Yara snarled suddenly “I don’t need your opinion Snow, just because the Queen tolerates you does not mean the rest of us do”

Daenerys’ happiness vanished in a snap, she drew herself up feeling the ice in her heart cool her features and the fire in her veins fuel her rage. 

“You have just pointed out that you are quite irrelevant in the grand scheme of things my lady” Dany spat. “Do not mistake my happiness as weakness. I am not the woman I used to be, not as easily manipulated . I am not your friend my lady, I am your Queen, you are my subject to bend and manipulate how I see fit and if I tell you that the man beside me is your King then you treat him as such. You should be on your knees thanking him, he saw what everyone else refused to see. He is not a Snow. He is Aegon Targaryen and the seven kingdoms are his by right. He is my husband and father to the future Queen, if you have a problem with that then you can join the others in this world that I shall reduce to ash. I don’t need men and women loyal to the world we used to live in. Draw a line my lady, let it go and bend the knee to your rightful King. We rule together. I speak with his voice and he with mine, we are one, until the day we die. Do I make myself quite clear”

Yara huffed and surveyed then both as if trying to find a weakness, when none was found she nodded once and bowed curtly. “I accept your offer humbly my Queen. My King”

Daenerys nodded once, reaching for Jon’s hand and squeezing it lightly. She was sure that she would making that speech again today and more than once. 

“Priestess” She called, beckoning Kinvara forward. “It has been a long while”

“Not so long your grace. You and the king have been in my prayers always, and the children of course, my fires have been warmer since their arrival in the world.” 

“Thank you” Jon said wrapping his arm tightly around Dany’s waist. “I owe you far more than I can give, for bringing her back to me”

“We all serve the Lord of Light in our own way my King. You have served him in more ways than one, I should be thanking you.”

“Might you introduce your companion Priestess” Dany interrupted knowing her husbands lack of patience for prophecy’s and gods. 

“My sister your grace, Santulana the Empress of Centros”

Daenerys looked between the two women trying to find a likeness. There was none, and she had never heard of the place Kinvara spoke of.

“Your dragon flies well” The mysterious woman said addressing Jon. 

“Rhaegal? Aye a quick one not as strong as his brother but quicker I believe” 

Daenerys beamed at the enthusiasm Jon showed when speaking of his dragon. She still fondly remembered the day she had first watched Jon clamber up on Rhaegar with about as much grace as a drunken bear, but those days were gone. The connection Jon had with her younger so was unique, they seemed to understand each other in ways Daenerys did not. He was still her son, she felt his heart beat, his blood, his emotions, but Jon... Jon understood his mind could even go as far as to manipulate it. Freida had explained to her years ago that it was the blood of the first men in him.

“Them Stark’s can all do it, though not many know they can. Tormund told me that when the King died his spirit went into that wolf and stayed their until he was brought back. No doubt your dragon shares his mind as much as ghost now”

 

“He was in a bad shape when I was brought to him.” The empress mused and Daenerys frowned at her and then her memory surfaced. She never met the person who healed Rhaegal, who brought him back.

“It was you” Daenerys exclaimed. “You brought my son back”

The strange woman shook her head smiling blandly. “You brought him back Daenerys Stormborn, I simply fixed what was broken. I often find that the more something is broken, the easier it is to fix”

Daenerys frowned. “I am not sure I would agree my Lady. I would argue that some things are shattered beyond repair”

“Would you? Here I stand before a man and a woman who were once shattered beyond repair, pulled apart by lies and betrayal , murdered and exiled but here you are not the shadows of a former dynasty but the soon to be conquerors of an empire”

Daenerys retort caught in her throat and she looked to Jon, he very rarely listened to profantic prophecy yet there was that mask again. The mask of Aegon Targaryen, the conqueror come again. So many men had promised her the world, yet only Jon would deliver it at her feet.

Her gaze moved beyond Kinvara and her sister to the four walking up the pier towards them. Her eyes locked on the woman, just as small of frame as she remembered. Irri had cut her hair, the once sleek dark braids that Missandei or Daenerys had laced every morning were gone, her hair now falling just below her ears. Like her people she wore a mismatched assortment of garments. Her painted vest was inlaid with red silk, the boots she wore had been Daenerys’, around her neck hung parts of an old Lannister helm. Irri had never been a warrior, but she was brave and strong, everything Dany had been through in her life, Irri had lived through it too.

Their gazes met and Daenerys felt unbidden tears well in her eyes as she moved forward, gathering her oldest living companion into an embrace before she could sink to her knees.

“Khaleesi” Irri whispered. “Yer Thirat, Yer iffi athdrivar”

“Oh sweetling” Dany gasped between tears. “Anha vo iffi athdrivar. Anha ki alikh tat”

“The first time we cross the poison water we tore down the lion men in their iron suits, we crushed Cersei Lannister, now your Khalasar shall ride once again beneath the dragon flag. We will bring you the heads of your enemies and tear the wolves apart.”

Daenerys smiled at her words, her strength and determination shone through her face. “There is much to be done. Make your home here, let us know if there is anything you need”

“I serve you, Khaleesi” Irri said with such conviction and reverence it almost brought more tears to Dany’s eyes.

Dany smiled grasping her friends hands tightly. “You are far more deserving than the position of my handmaiden Irri”

“But you need one Khaleesi, these north people cannot make the right braids” Irri’s fingers pulled through Daenerys loose hair raising an eyebrow. “You are the Khaleesi, not a Princess”

Daenerys rolled her eyes and looked to her Khalasar beyond moving from the boats up the docks. All their eyes directed at her in awe.

“Rhoqko?” She asked searching around remembering the closeness that Irri had had with her blood rider.

Irri’s expression turned dark. “Dead Khaleesi, he did not believe even when the red witch told us of your life. He tried....he declared himself Khal”

The venom of the betrayal ignited and Dany felt her mouth twitch as she tried to calm her urges.

“What happened?”

Irri smirked. “There is only one Khaleesi and her name is Daenerys Stormborn. Any who deny this are our enemy. I gave him to Drogon for his supper”

The laugh that escaped her made Jon turn his attention from Gendry in surprise.

“He was not the first” Dany giggled and Irri grinned.

“No Khaleesi, nor the last” 

Daenerys took a step back from Irri and turned to her two most loyal commanders.

Greyworm had not changed over the years. His surly face looked a little more scarred and the kindness and humanity that Missandei had given him long ago had disappeared from his eyes, and yet their was pride there, relief and familiarity. She had not seen Daario since her departure from Mereen. The sell sword and her former lover was handsome still, his beard still dyed an obscene shade of blue, his clothes too, looked finer than before, but the swagger and arrogance was still present.

“Torgo Nudho” Daenerys smiled enveloping the warrior into an embrace. He stood stiff for a moment and then brough his arms up to return the embrace.

“My Queen, to see you alive again, it gives me great honour and pride. We have carried your message and have broken the wheel in the East. We return to your side, we are yours to command”

“I meant what I said all those years ago” Daenerys said stepping back and surveying him. “You have been with me from the beginning, the bravest of all my soldiers, the most loyal of men. Your place is by our side, as Master of War“

Greyworm stares over to Jon and the tension was palpable. “He is not my King. He does not deserve to be your King after what he has done”

“Enough” Daenerys said as she stepped back beside Jon. “You do not know the full story, you do not know what truly happened. It is not your responsibility to hate him, it is not your responsibility to forgive him.”

Daenerys cleared her throat and addressed her people, dothraki, unsullied and the rest.

“What happened in the past is done. Nothing will change it, but it has shaped who we are today. We must learn from our mistakes, we must fight together, we are stronger together and we will not let our enemies break us from within like they once did. We stand on the brink of a new age, a new world and a new empire. I promised you that we would break the wheel and you have done that magnificently, but there is more to do. I welcome you now, at the side of the man who is not only my blood but my husband and King, to experience just a small part of the world we will build. Learn from King Argon’s people. The freefolk are alike to you, learn from them, share your wisdom and culture. We are one people now, Essosi, Westerosi it matters not. We live together, we fight together and we will die together if we must, one people, one army under one House. 

House Targaryen. Fire and Blood, from this day until the end of days!”

Daenerys grasped Jon’s hand and together they raised their fist to the air, to the roars and cheers of their people. There was much to talk about, she knew, there were lessons she would need to teach, and stories she needed to hear, but for now she relished in the weak morning light, relished the Adrenalin that pumped through her veins. Daenerys Stormborn was back. Not even death could hold dominion over her now. The Dragon Queen lived again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dothraki Translation:
> 
> You beat death, you conquered all.
> 
> I did not beat death and there is much more to conquer


	32. Daenerys - Old Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys discovers the truth of what happened in Mereen

Daenerys - Old Scars 

“Did you see her face?” Daenerys asked as she sat behind their shared desk in their solar. “I want to know what happened.”

Jon sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dany we can make an educated guess.”

“You’re sister used to be a fighter” Daenerys interjected. “What I just saw on the docks was not the girl I saw in Winterfell, don’t you want to know?”

Jon sighed and sat down beside her. Worry was plain across his face. “Of course I want to know, but you know what I’m capable of Daenerys. If they’ve hurt her, I can’t guarantee how I’ll react”

Daenerys frowned. “And what about how I will react?-“

“You’re not going to kill them Daenerys, my sister may not have said anything but I got the gist from Gendry, it wasn’t good and it hasn’t painted your commanders in a good light, no matter what Arya might have said or done, and I have reason to believe she said very little and did even less”

Dany sighed. “Jon this isn’t the old argument. Do not presume what I will do or will not do to my generals. We can’t fight among ourselves , we must be just and merciful and we need to know what happened.”

Jon started at her smiling slightly. “You’re right. Fuck it you’re always right. It’s just having them all here, it’s like opening a locked box”

She reached for his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Let’s burn the box my love, no more boxes, I meant what I said, we are one people now, we have to rule as such. The freefolk have accepted me as their Queen, the essosi will accept your as King. This isn’t like it was before. Arya is Family, as is Gendry, loyal people, no one harms a hair on their heads.”

He smiled and leant in to capture her lips. “I love you”

“Not as much as I love you” Dany smiled.

They summoned their newest guests to their solar after they broke their fast. In the light of the fire and close up they both looked worse than before. 

“Lord Davos and the Princess of Dorne have been singing your praises My Lord” Daenerys smiled handing Gendry a horn of ale. “They praise your leadership of the Stormlands, it appears I did not make a mistake in legitimising you. You are everything your father was not.”

“Thank you your grace. In truth I constantly question my decisions, I don’t know the first thing about being Lordly” Gendry muttered.

“No” Jon agreed. “But you know your people, you’ve been in their shoes, you’ve known poverty and hunger and you’ve worked almost all your life. These are qualities that we need in Westeros. You’re loyalty is most valued.”

“You have it, always” Gendry responded firmly sipping at his ale.

Daenerys turned to Arya. “What happened?”

The youngest Stark Daughter shifted in her chair, her teeth chewing on her lip. “It doesn’t matter now. What you said down there, we’re one people, I’ve drawn a line, it’s fine”

“You mistake me Arya, that wasn’t a question, you are going to tell me what happened”

“Why do you want to know?” She snapped.

“Because I won’t have my men or women abusing their power because they feel it is their right. They will not use my name or the King’s name to commit atrocities. So tell me Arya Stark What has happened?”

“We went to Pentos first. I knew Illyrio Mopatis was once an ally to House Targaryen, I thought he might help us to persuade your people that you were alive”

Unease turned Dany’s stomach. “I can only guess he is no longer an ally”

“Oh he claims that he is” Arya spat. “It was all very grey, you see it seems that Mopatis has been having some trouble with his slave trade. As soon as I walked into his manse he saw it as an opportunity to make a deal with Torgo Nudho and the council of Mereen.”

“Which was?”

“My head for immunity”

Daenerys hissed her distaste and she felt Jon stiffen immediately.

“How did they get you to Mereen, forgive me but I know you to be a fighter.”

“Even fighters cant always stand strong to poisons”

The jug of ale smashed on the floor as Jon stood rage shaking his body and Dany reached out a hand to still her husbands fists.

“Illyrio poisoned you?”

The girl nodded meekly. “I was stupid...I should have know ...”

“How did you get to Mereen?” Daenerys interrupted trying to gather the facts.

“By ship” Gendry began. “Jon Connington was paid handsomely for it”

The name stirred a memory but it was Jon who spoke. “Connington? He’s alive? My uncle always told us he had died”

“He’s alive” Arya said. “He claims to serve House Targaryen and I tried to tell him about you Jon, about who you are and that you were alive Daenerys but he didn’t believe me....”

Daenerys shifted. “Gold is more tangible I suppose, so my father’s former hand took you to Mereen, what happened”

“We were brought before Torgo Nudho and Daario Nahaaris for a trial” Arya continued but Gendry snorted .

“A mummers farce. That wasn’t a fucking trial”

Daenerys sighed impatiently and turned to Jon. “Can we have the room? I’ll find you later”

Jon started at her and then to Arya and gave a kurt nod. “Gendry, I need you to assess the forge, would you accompany me?”

Gendry frowned but stood nodding. “Of course” He reaches down and brushed Arya’s cheek much to Daenerys’ surprise. “Tell her everything”

But Arya only scowled, knocking his fingers away lightly.

When the door had closed, Dany shifted in her seat and cleared her throat.

“Sorry about that, it seemed that this situation needed to be dealt with between us.”

“What about the King?” Arya retorted not meeting her gaze.

“He’s a patient man your brother, and his forgiveness knows no ends, however, in this delicate situation I very much doubt he would let this slide, it’s a difficult situation Arya. Some of my most loyal commanders whom I have trusted with power for years have used my name to harm you, to unfairly try you and I presume sentence your death. It is not something that I can forget and it is not something I will easily forgive, please know that, but I need those men.” 

“It’s not a delicate situation” Arya bit back. “They were right to, my family betrayed you, it is as simple as that.”

Daenerys sighed and reached for her ale. “I am not my Father, Arya. I don’t execute people for their families crimes. I execute people for their own crimes, if I was my father I would have killed Tyrion Lannister long ago, for his father’s betrayal. Your sister betrayed me, and the three eyed raven got into my head, he pushed me to betray my own values. Their time will come, I need you to know that.”

She nodded meekly. “I know you’re not your father, I thought for a long time you were much worse. The smell of burning flesh, it does leave you after a while, but the images, the screaming, men women and children burning in their homes that stays with you much longer.”

The chill that crept over Dany’s skin shook her to the core. “You were there?”

“I was there. You asked me if I was going to betray you back there. I’m not, I am a woman of my word your grace, believe me. But I was there that day. I was amongst the thousands that you burned alive and for a long time I hated you, but then” She pushed her right sleeve up her arm and stood up revealing a long jagged scar grooved into her arm. “I realised what it felt like to lose my mind. The Empress you met outside your gates, she’s taught me a lot over the years, but the one thing I have learned is that you are not your father, and what happened in Kings Landing was not you. I’ve seen you in battle, I’ve watched from the battlements of Winterfell as you fought the dead. It was like watching two different women”

“It was” Dany muttered. She could still remember the battle of Winterfell, remember the pain, the exhaustion, the grief, it had been easy to see the enemy, to differentiate them from the allies, at King’s Landing she had had no idea. She had had no control. “I didn’t know you were there, Jon never told me -“

“He didn’t know I was there until after it all. After your speech” Arya looked up at her with regret plain across her face. “I told him that you were a threat to his life, that I knew a killer when I saw one.”

Daenerys leant back and smiled. So much of that day was a blur to her still and having Arya Stark repeat the whispering a that went on behind her back did nothing to ease her displeasure. “We’re all killers Arya. Jorah Mormont told me long ago that winning the throne would mean blood on my hands. Olena Tyrell told me I was never going win it by asking nicely. They were both correct.” She laughed lightly. “The world holds such a double standard for Queens. We are the weaker sex in their eyes so we must work twice as hard. If I were a man no one would have questioned my actions in King’s Landing. They would have called me strong, ruthless, powerful, tactical. Instead I am mad, unhinged and callous. How could a Queen possibly murder children and get away with it? Yet Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing in a similar fashion, he didn’t have a dragon but he had a force twice as large as mine, and what did they do? Raped and pillaged and murdered. Tywin Lannister was praised for that. He was praised and eventually made my father’s hand when he drowned an entire family for disloyalty and yet when I executed the head and heir of an ancient house for betraying their liege Lady my advisors were concerned for the state of my mental well-being. Did you feel mad when you destroyed house Frey?”

Arya blinked her cheeks flushing before she composed herself. “How do you-“

“Varys was my spymaster Arya, did you honestly think I would take one step into Winterfell before I knew what it’s inhabitants were capable of? I was impressed when he told me, you see I don’t hold double standards. House Frey murdered your mother and your brother, Walder Frey and his sons and you poisoned them all”

“I didn’t poison Walder Frey” Arya admitted a strange smile settling on her lips and Daenerys felt relief wash over her. Here was the Arya Stark she was expecting. The truth staring her in the face, no courtesies or stories. “I slit his throat, it made me happy feeling the blood drain out over him. It gave me joy watching as his sons and grandsons and brothers choked to death on their wine. To know the debt was paid gave me satisfaction.”

Daenerys smiled again, it were the words she wanted hear. “Yes I am sure it did. They harmed your family and so they had to go. Tell me while we speak of the past Arya, what harm did I inflict on your family? What did I do to justify firstly disloyalty, then treason and finally thoughts and schemes of murder? Did you think about how it would feel to have my blood flow over your knife? Or perhaps how it would feel to watch as I splutter and choke over let’s say...poisoned wine?”

Arya balked. “Your Grace-“

Dany held up a hand and shook her head. “No, you did not trust me Arya, why is that?”

Arya sighed and stared into the fire that had began to catch on the dry log. “Because Sansa didn’t trust you.”

“And who told Sansa that was perhaps untrustworthy?”

“Bran”

It was an understanding that they both knew they would reach, and it was all the understanding that Daenerys needed for now.  
“The one person who could manipulate the present to create an unstable future told your sister that I was not to be trusted and she listened because everything the three eyed raven had told her before had been the truth. The more truth you tell the easier people around you will believe a lie. Your father knew that, as does the King. I am sure you learnt that during your time in Braavos”

If she was shocked that Daenerys knew yet another hidden secret, Arya did not show it, instead she nodded, masking the brief flash of emotion, clear in her steel grey eyes. 

“So here we are” Daenerys began. “Two women on the brink of the largest war Westeros will ever see. What you have done for me is noteworthy, more than what was required of you, and something I would have never expected of you.”

“I love my brother” Arya interrupted fiercely. “I love him more than anyone in this world-“

“I think their might be a Lord who might contest that love” Daenerys smirked. “But I understand, please know Arya, that despite everything I love him too. He has given me what no other man has been able to give me,I trust him, I respect him and I admire him. He will be the greatest King this country will ever see-“

“And you their greatest Queen” Arya smiles genuinely. “Please Daenerys, I know it must seem strange coming from me, but I know it now.”

Dany reached for her hand across the desk and squeezed it. “Thankyou. Arya what my generals did to you is something that I am not prepared to justify, it is inexcusable and unforgivable but I cannot put them to the sword”

“I am not asking you to, your dragon saved me, I did not die and I know how important they are in the grand scheme of things”

“Nevertheless they shall know their wrong doings, an attack on the Warden of the North is an attack on myself and the King, it will not stand again.”

Arya blinked slowly at her. “Warden of the North?”

Daenerys nodded. “You know the fate that awaits your sister. She has betrayed me, she has betrayed the King too many times. Her day shall come, she shall be trialed and executed as befits her station as a rebel Queen. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, who better than Eddard Stark’s youngest daughter?”

“I don’t want to be a lady your grace” Arya muttered sourly but Dany shook her head.

“I’m not asking you to be a Lady, I’m asking you to be a leader. I need the North, Jon needs the North and we need someone ruling in our stead whom we trust and whom the northern people trust, I can’t think of any better than the hero of Winterfell herself”

Arya Stark nodded quietly, she seemed to be choosing and Daenerys quite understood the choice. Before now she was free to do as she pleased, but now she would be responsible for a kingdom.

“The North is yours your grace” She finally said. “I will govern it as best I can.”

“Then welcome to the new world, Lady Stark.”

 

Daenerys had Greyworm, Daario and Jon Connington summoned to the throne room shortly after sending Arya off with Jon and the children. Upon meeting their Aunt, Lyanna and Daeron has both jumped on her, pestering her with questions about the night king and the ‘Big Fight in the Snow’

Dany had then resumed her Queenly mask and had sat upon her wooden throne with Ghost curled at her feet and had waited patiently for their arrival.

Tormund led them in, announced them individually and took his seat on the lower step as hand. Each man bowed in turn muttering courtesies as they went. Daenerys did not smile, she refused to let them see her happiness at two of their return. Today she was wrath and as promised to her warden of the North, these men knew it. She looked first to Daario.

“It has come to my attention that you have used my name and cause to sanction an unjustified and inexcusable murder. From a position of highest power, which I honoured you with, in front of the people of Mereen you organised a spectacle to punish a woman for crimes committed by her sister. Had my son not arrived at the opportune moment that woman, whom so happens to be the Warden of the North, our largest most kingdom and head of one of the most ancient families of Westeros , would have been executed on false charges” Her tone was venomous and Daenerys revelled in the fearful expression her former lover returned her.  
Daenerys turned to Jon Connington.

“Your involvement in Illyrio Mopatis’ scheme not only caused the poisoning and torture of my good sister and aunt to the future Queen of Westeros, but also to my most loyal Lord and ally, Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End, the natural child of the man who so famously defeated you in battle causing the loss of your lands, your titles and more importantly your reputation. If you think that your actions would have couriered favour in my court you are quite mistaken.”

She turned last to Greyworm, who at least had the decency to look ashamed. “And you, my strongest and bravest of soldiers were fearful of the truth. My closest friend and the woman you loved would have found your involvement in all of this disgusting and despicable. I see it as an insult to Missandei’s memory for you to accept such diabolical behaviour.”

Ghost shifted as Daenerys drew herself up. “All three of your actions warrant ,in turn, death sentencing and know, today, I would gladly give them to all of you. The attack on the Warden of the North is in turn an attack on your Queen and your King. The three of you are still breathing because Lady Stark wishes to draw a line and get on with it. She recognised that there are more important enemies to be dealt with and a more important war to be fought. Today you are forgiven. But the North remembers and so. Do. I.” Daenerys stood looking down on them, with their bowed heads and meek faces. Beside her Ghost stood, flush just above her elbow, his teeth bared in a silent snarl and all men looked up alarmed. “Listen closely my Lords, I shall never repeat myself again. From this day forward, you three shall sing the highest praises of Lady Stark, you shall do everything in your effort to help her secure the North and while you are at it, you shall kneel to your rightful King, my husband, Aegon of House Targaryen the sixth of his name. No argument, no protestation, you shall serve him as loyally as you serve me, you shall obey every command and remember the next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me. Do you understand?”

“Yes your grace” They said in unison and Daenerys nodded. “Lord Connington I would speak to you alone....walk with me”

Descending the steps, Ghost swift by her side she walk through the three, Connington bowing and turning to follow her.

“Tormund?” She called turning back to the King’s hand. “See that the troops are housed properly, the rest can camp, and also tell the kitchens that we shall be having a feast in honour of the Warden of the North and Lord Baratheon’s arrival.”

The free folk leader nodded and bowed taking his leave, Daenerys continued out of the long house at a swift pace, Connington one step behind.

“He is almost as big as you your grace, I must confess I have never seen a wolf this large” Connington notes as they made their way through the bustle of movement across the main square.

“He is a direwolf, My Lord, and has been at the King’s side since he was the pup. The King tells me that Ghost was the runt of the litter”

Connington chuckled nervously. “I dread to think the size of the others, he seems quite tame with you.”

“He knows his family and his friends. I am told that his brother, who belonged to Robb Stark, joined his master in battle and would often rip out the throats of his enemies. I have never seen Ghost kill a man, but I know that you will never hear the King give the command. The bond he shares with Ghost goes beyond commands and words. They share minds, thoughts and feelings. He obeys me well enough and the children he dotes on, but do not mistake him for a common dog, he is as ruthless as his King.”

They exited through the northern gate and Ghost padded on ahead up the track.

“You were my Father’s hand” Daenerys said after a few minutes of silence. The older man looked at her warily, his blue eyes somewhat reminding her of Jorah Mormont. Another exiled knight come to swear his allegiance. None would match Ser Jorah’s she knew, and she did not trust this man yet, but she hadn’t trusted Ser Jorah for a long time.

“I was, your grace”.

“And a great friend to my brother Rhaegar?”

A sadness crossed across Connington’s lines and weather worn face. “I loved your brother very much, he was my greatest friend”

“Do you see a resemblance in his son?” Daenerys asked and she felt like a child again asking Ser Barristan about her family.

“I must confess I have not looked properly, on first appearance I would say he looks very northern.”

“I sometimes think I can see it, I remember my brother Viserys’ face, they have the same nose, although I think the King is a far better man than my brother.”

“I would not know your Grace, I only knew Prince Viserys as a boy, I never knew the man he grew to be”

“I am sure you would find his likeness to my father. Viserys was arrogant, quick to temper, prone to violence and foolish”

“That does sound like Aerys” Connington agreed.

“At the height of my power my enemies and indeed my allies likened me to my Father. When they learn of my return they will dub me the mad Queen. They will say that the King is a traitor to his family, to the North.” Daenerys quickened her pace along the track moving easily up the path to the ridge. Connington followed and Daenerys could him wheeze slightly at the effort of the steepening slope.

When they reached the ridge Daenerys stopped and waited for her brothers old friend to catch up.

“I am not my Father Lord Connington.” She declared when he reached her side. “Nor is the King a traitor to his family. He is Rhaegar’s son. My nephew by blood, my husband by oath and my King by choice and by right. We are not the Targaryen’s that you once knew and loved.”

She moved over the ridge, watching intently as Jon Connington’s eyes widened in fear and wonder at the site before him. Daenerys trudged towards her eldest sons stopping just at Drogon’s snout.

“The House Targaryen you once knew and served was small, weak with limited imagination and ambition for a greater world. Aegon and I are not those people. We will conquer this world, we will liberate the people and we will do it with Fire and Blood. We stand at the Helm of the largest army in the world. We are as powerful, if not more so, than the conquerors themselves. Do you understand?”

Rhaegal growled low as he sniffed at the newcomer and Connington took a shaky breath his eyes fixed on Daenerys.

“I understand your grace.”

She smiled sweetly. “I am glad for that, now you wear on your hip something that does not belong to you” Dany looked pointedly at the ancient sword. “I shall give you the benefit of the doubt my Lord, let us say that you have been keeping the conquerors sword safe so that you may return it to the rightful owner.”

“You intend to wield it your grace?” Connington stammered confused.

Daenerys shook her head. “Goodness no, it would do my ancestors an injustice. I am far better at wielding fire than steel. It is Aegon who wields steel and delivers blood. He’s very good at it. Better I think than his own father, or the uncle that raised him. Blackfyre is his, not just by right. He has earned it.”

There was a brief pause but Connington seemed to sag, fear and exhaustion plain in his features. He unbuckled the ancient sword and handed it to Daenerys. 

The sword itself was far lighter than she had been expecting. The rubies in the hilt shone in the dull light and behind her Drogon and Rhaegal stirred interested suddenly in the ancient artefact. She fastened it across her back and turned to Drogon lowered shoulder, inviting his mother up onto his back. When she was comfortably nestled on his side neck she called down to the knight who seemed to be quaking in fear at two dragons growling quietly in his face.

“The Smith shall make you a new sword which you can swear to us in perpetuity. Know this Lord Connington. If you fail us as you did my Father, believe me, I will burn your alive”

Daenerys left him quaking in his boots as she took off into the sky, her dragons crying out into the midday sun and elation filled her as she looked out to the place that had been her home for almost five years. The only place she had ever called home, which was now filled with her people, ready to fight, ready to live and in the frozen air Daenerys felt something that she had not felt in years. 

Hope. Ambition. Power.


	33. Jon - Too Heavy For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reminisces on the parents he never knew and looks to the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Things are starting together I spent the Christmas break planning the next few chapters and I am so excited to share it with you all.

Jon - Too Heavy For Me

This must have been what his mother had looked like, he thought quietly to himself as he watched Arya swing her nephew around in the snow. He had heard Eddard Stark once say that Arya looked like Lyanna. Jon looked on, examining her hair, as dark as his, her eyes as grey as his were. They did not have the same face, his was long but not like Arya’s, not like Ned or Benjens. Jon knew he had his father’s face. He had seen it in his dreams, he often wondered whether Dany saw it. A resemblance to herself. If she did, she never said anything. 

They had departed Aemon’s Port and ridden North a while in search of something to hunt, whilst Daenerys stayed behind to hold court with her generals. Jon has not been able to master his diplomacy on this occasion. He knew what had happened, he knew what they had done and why they had done it, yet the anger that rose like a flame within him when he focused on his sister’s broken and bruised frame was indestructible. Arya had insisted that they draw a line and he had silently contained his rage, taking most of it out on his horse as he had galloped firercely through the wilderness, much to his daughter’s delight at the sudden bursts of speed.

Jon had taken down a buck grazing between the patches of snow, whilst Arya had expertly shot 12 rabbits and a small family of Squirrels. The weather was warming once again and Jon knew spring was in the air, something that had not been seen since Lyanna’s birth. 

Spring and War would come simultaneously, and Jon yearned for it. The near five years of peace had settled Jon. He had become the man he needed to be, the father he wanted to be and the King. His and Daenerys’ relationship whilst not ordained by any religion was a stable marriage. Their love had not wavered, nor their values. They were a unit,loved respected and feared by their people. The home they had built for themselves , Jon knew, would be the kindest happiest place they would ever know. Ruling this small land was by all accounts easy. They had built a solid foundation on which to build their new world. But the bloodlust that had lain dormant all these years had stirred in Jon when the Dornish had arrived and had thrived that very morning. He felt ready, to execute this plan that had been planted in his dreams, that he had recited in his head for five years. Daenerys and Jon had lain every night together and had gone over the steps. The contingencies, the what if’s and the but’s. He knew Westeros, he knew War. Both were terrible, and both would soon be under his command.

“How old are they?” Arya asked as she tucked a thick fur around the prince and princess as they slept by the camp fire.

“Lyanna will be five in a moon’s turn and Daeron will be four at the new year.” 

“Did she know she was pregnant? At Winterfell?”

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know, she says she suspected, but she didn’t allow herself to hope not whilst everything was going on”.

Arya stared at him. “I’m sorry Jon, I should have trusted your judgement. I should have supported your choices....but as you say, there was so much going on.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her into his side tightly, kissing the top of her head. “I forgive you little sister. You have proven yourself to be one of my most loyal supporters. You always have been.”

“I missed you big brother” Arya muttered thickly. “We have now spent more years apart than together. Sometimes I don’t feel like your little sister anymore. I feel I do not know you as well anymore”

Jon swallowed his grief at her statement and shifted so he could see her face.

“For a long time Arya, I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know where I belonged. I wasn’t a Stark, no matter what people told me. I fought and fought to prove myself and then there was a mutiny and I was dead and everything I had done in my life felt meaningless. Then I woke up and I started dreaming. Dreams I didn’t understand. Then I met Daenerys and suddenly I felt a purpose. This woman who had spent her entire life fighting for her life, for her people and I had a purpose. Aye, I fell in love, but it was more than love that drew us together. Call it fate or destiny I dont bloody know but I know there is power in dragon’s blood and it runs in our veins. When I learned what the three eyed raven was doing, when my mother appeared to me in my dreams and told me they were going to take Daenerys away from me, I had to act. What I did, it has been the most selfish thing I have ever done. I couldn’t imagine a world without her, and I saw her lose her mind so I freed her. I murdered her knowing she would return, knowing she may hate me forever, but knowing that I would live in a world where she existed.”

Arya smiled genuinely. “She doesn’t hate you though.”

Jon laughed loudly. “Oh she did, for a long time, we were driven apart and the world suffered for it. We both realised that hating each other for what we had done purposefully or not, was futile. We have been and always will be, stronger together.”

“Father would be proud.” Arya whispered.

Jon grimaced but Arya insisted. “He would be, you are an excellent King, loving and just and everything he taught Robb to be and more. You know your duty and you hold it above everything else. Your people respect you, they worship you. They will write songs about your reign brother I am sure of it.”

Jon chuckled at the absurdity of Arya’s words. “And here I was thinking you didn’t care for songs and horseshit like that”

Arya smiled. “I don’t care for the shit ones. Songs about Kings and Dragons, now that’s a different story”

“Says the Hero Winterfell” Jon snorted and Arya snarled and threw a handful of snow at his face.

“Argues Aegon the sixth of his name, King of the seven kingdoms and beyond”

Jon’s face dropped into a steely expression. “You would throw snow at your King”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Only when he is being thick headed and stupid.”

Jon laughed. “Promise me this Lady Stark, if I am ever thick headed and stupid you shall only form snowballs to throw at me and not rebellions”

Arya smiled sadly and squeezed his hand. “I promise your grace”

Jon grimaced at the formality but was quickly distracted by the sound of beating wings. He stood quickly and looked through the tree line to the sky above as Drogon’s underbelly came into view as he came to land in the nearby clearing, his brother remaining airborne.

“Speaking of promises” Jon muttered getting to his feet as Daenerys stride through the deep snow with ease, a smile playing on her queenly facade. “How goes it your grace? Need I decorate the walls of Aemon’s Port with heads?”

Daenerys grinned. “Not today my King. They have owed to be loyal and have sworn to pledge themselves to us”

“I will too” Arya interrupted with earnest. “It’s time for all of us to stand firm and stand together”

Daenerys met his sister’s steely expression and nodded. “It is. I couldn’t have put it better myself”

Jon then noticed the sword strapped to her back. “A new gift from Essos?” He asked gesturing to the pommel carved to resemble a dragon’s head, jaws wide as if to ignite its fiery breath.

Daenerys shook her head and pulled the sword from its scabbard. “It appears Jon Connington held onto more than just the memory of my Brother.”

Jon took the sword and examined the smoky metal, inlaid with bright streaks of red, the rubies inlaid in the pommel and up the blade glimmered and Jon felt his breath pause as he stared in wonder at a sword he had only ever seen in books.

“Blackfyre” He whispered. It was feather light and razor sharp and had been wielded by Aegon the conqueror himself. It had been a sword that had fuelled Jon’s childhood’s dreams and many a time when He and Robb has sparred in the Winterfell he had proclaimed he wielded Blackfyre against Ice.

 

“I will teach you how to wield it Dany.”

Daenerys laughed. “You will do no such thing. I do not want it”

Jon gaped at her. “But it’s Blackfyre, it’s your birthright”

Daenerys shook her head and Jon felt exasperated at his wife. Why would she turn down such a weapon.

“It is not my birthright. Had the sword stayed in the family it would have never passed to me. Dark Sister is the Queen’s sword, never Blackfyre, it is yours, and I would prefer such a weapon to be wielded by the greatest swordsman alive”

Jon grasped the pommel and held the sword up. It was truly a magnificent piece of art , and a warmth spread through his fingers as he swung the blade around, but he hesitated as he felt the weight of Longclaw on his hip. 

“I have a sword” He muttered lowering the blade.

Dany smiled sadly. “That is Jon Snow’s sword. Longclaw. The sword of the white wolf. A sword of the North.”

She was right of course. What he had done with Longclaw, he had done as Jon Snow, and Jon Snow was never going to be King. He placed Blackfyre onto Dany’s open palms and quickly unbuckled Longclaw and turned to Arya.

“The Queen is right. This sword needs to be wielded by a Northerner. Jeor Mormont gave me this sword because he trusted me. I trust you Arya, we trust you, to wield this with honour as Warden of the North. I would have you wield it by my side when we ride Into battle”

Arya gaped at him. “But Jon, it’s too heavy for me”

He thrust it to her and shook his head. “It’s not and you know it.”

“But what about needle?”

Jon couldn’t help but laugh and kiss her on the forehead. “You are a woman grown and I had that sword made for you when you were but nine years of age. Keep it and give it to your own children, or in the meantime give it to your niece and teach her to wield it.”

Arya drew Longclaw with her left hand and tested the balance , her eyes alight with amazement. She pivoted quickly and Jon had seconds to grasp Blackfyre and match her blow. As the swords collided Jon felt the fire within him erupt and the woods came alive with the howls and roars of Dragons and Wolves.

 

The hall roared with noise as they feasted, crowded at close to two hundred men and women, the heat was intense, so much so that Jon sat only in a black doublet, dark red linen shirt and leather breeches. Daenerys beside him, was dressed in delicate charcoal silks, a dress brought from Mereen, something she had delighted in when the unsullied has brought her the chests filled with her old possessions. It was truly a beautiful dress, simple but it was wrapped about her slim figure so perfectly Jon could not keep his eyes from her for more than a moment. Joined with them upon the dais was Tormund, Freida and the children. Lyanna and Maia were using their knives as mock swordplay whilst Daeron laughed carelessly at their game. To his right Tormund was counting off the new numbers eagerly.

“We’ve got close to a hundred thousand by my counts, shy by only eight thousand. This army will be almost as large as the dead, those southern shits won’t know what to do with us. Two and ninety thousand men, an armada and two dragons.” Tormund grinned and rubbed his palms together. “It’s been five long ducking years, we’re ready for the fight.”

Jon laughed bitterly. “Aye, we shall leave as soon as everything is in order, we need enough provisions for ourselves and for the common folk. We win them only with their support. It’s a tried and tested method and we will succeed. The Queen has proved its effectiveness in Essos, they still fight for her even after so many years of absence.”

Daenerys leant forward and grasped his hand. “It’s time they fight for you now my love” She rose to her feet slamming her empty goblet down on the table to ensure silence. When it was given she smiled.

“Freefolk!” She called to a resounding roar. “Five years ago I came here and you knew me only as the Dragon Queen, but in these five years not only have you welcomed me to your home but you have taught me your culture and in turn learnt mine, together we have built a home with vision, new and as free as the blood that runs in your veins. We have built a better world in this small city and now the King and I ask only this of. Will you go forth and spread this vision? There are southerners willing to change we know it, you sit among them tonight. Lord Baratheon, Lord and Lady Seaworth, Princess Arianne, Lady Greyjoy. To you I say thank you, for putting your faith in us, for putting your faith in House Targaryen.”

Fists hammered the table as the named bowed their heads, humbled. Daenerys looked at Jon for a moment and smiled. “Freefolk, you have taught me that forgiveness is earned through trust and time and through strength, and we go forth to win this war, there are those we must forgive , those that sink to their knees must be raised up again, new and clear of the uncertainty of the past.” She turned to Arya who sat beside Gendry Baratheon and Davos. “My Lady of Stark, the hero of Winterfell will you stand behind House Targaryen, now and always?”

Arya stood, and Daenerys noticed with curiosity as Gendry reached to squeeze her fingers gently. “Your grace” She called drawing Longclaw from her hip as if she had had the sword for a thousand years. She sunk to one knee. “My sword is yours in victory and defeat and I pledge myself as the last of the Stark’s to House Targaryen, in perpetuity”

Jon felt a proud smile spread across his face as he stood beside his Queen. 

“Rise Arya Stark, Hero of Winterfell and Warden of the North”

Cheers erupted once more and Arya rose before them, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her stoney eyes welled with tears but she blinked them back and resumed her seat beside Lord Baratheon. Jon made to resume his seat but Dany gripped his elbow.  
His wife looked to the seats behind the Westerosi Lords and Ladies.

“My Generals, please rise” Daenerys commanded. “And you Lord Connington”

Greyworm, Nahaaris and Connington all rose together, their faces set and expressionless. Jon took a deep breath and squared his soldiers staring at the men. Her most loyal general, a former lover and a man who had used her brothers name for gain and reputation.

“Lord Connington I believe you have something to say” Daenerys spoke evenly but venom in her voice was evident.

The aged knight stepped forward, his eyes trained on Jon’s face searching as if for a flicker of his father, the man he had loved and served.

“Rhaegar was the King I chose and we were robbed of his rule on the trident. What a King we would have had. What a King we were denied. A brilliant man, more like a god than the mere beings that walk this earth, the last dragon. Yet now his bones are ashes and now I stand before two new dragons, that have already fought for their country, have lead armies into battles which seemed lost. You are not your father, your grace. I can see a small likeness aye, but that is where it stops. I see that now. You are far greater than your father, greater than your grandfather. You will build a world that i can only wish to have a place in.” He turned to Daenerys and Jon had to compose himself. He had met no one who had known Rhaegar, who could tell him what he had been like and here stood the only man left speaking of him as a lover. 

“My Queen, I have failed you. I should have been with you from the beginning and I was not. Too foolish in trusting rich men with deep pockets. The likeness you have to your mother is uncanny but you are more than she ever was. Stronger, Wiser, a true Queen. I have failed you both, I questioned the King’s legitimacy despite the knowledge I had, I refused to serve the Queen out of fearing what was not there. I beg for your forgiveness and ask that I am allowed to return to my duty of serving the crown and House Targaryen, in which ever way you see fit” He dropped to one knee , head bowed.

“Thank you Lord Connington” Jon started thickly. “There is nothing to forgive. You have repented and we move forward. You family rules your lands and a line of succession has been forged that I will not break, therefore we must find another position for you. Lord Connington I would name you the first knight to serve in the Kingsguard, as I am sure my father would have named you had he ascended the throne in my place. If the Queen is in accord?”

Daenerys smiled and nodded. “I agree however my love I fear we will need to change the name of the Kingsguard, for they serve and protect the King and Queen now “ She turned to the crowd. “Any suggestions?”

Many shouts a recommendations echoed around the hall.

“The Crownsguard!” Called Gendry.

“The Royal Guard” Called Arianne but it was little Lyanna who banged her tiny fist on the table and climbed atop catching eye of her parents and silenced the room. 

“No Papa it should be called The dragon’s guard” She cried and the hall all looked to their Princess. 

Jon grinned at her. “Why Lyanna, why Dragon’s guard? Why not crowns guard or royal guard?”

She smiled shyly. “Because Papa, it’s only the dragons who get to be King and Queen. Not Wolves or Stags or Kwakens. Only dragons. Forever and ever.”

Daenerys reaches for their daughter and kissed her little head. “Yes my darling Princess you are right.” She turned to the crowd. “The Princess of Dragonstone has spoken. Feared and revered will be the knights that guard the dragons. Ser Jon we would name you the first knight of the Dragon’s Guard”

A cheer erupted and Connington stood bowing his head humbly and returning to stand beside the Queen’s generals.

“Torgo Nudho, Daario Nahaaris” Jon called thanking silently to whatever gods were left to him that his northern accent did not scupper the pronouncement of their names. 

“You have known the Queen far longer than I and perhaps have loved her longer. We have fought on the same side before, please know that I trust you both. Torgo Nudho, I have fought beside you on two occasions. In both battles you fought for your Queen and for your freedom. I respect that beyond all else. Daario Naharis I do not know you, but your commitment and your loyalty is clear and from what the Queen has told me, unwavering. I understand that trust is earned, and I also understand that in your eyes that there is not a single reason why you should trust me. You did not choose me as your King and I am never going to force you to choose me, nor force your men to choose me.” He rounded the table heart hammering in his chest. “I do not seek to see you on your knees swearing vows. Words are wind. Nor will I Command you to fight for me, or to die for me. I haven’t earned that. All I ask is this, that you and your men will fight beside me, and mayhaps we will die together for the woman beside me. Our common agreement is clear. I ask you to fight and protect your Queen, and the children. The children she has bore who will rule after she is gone. We fight together and let me earn your trust.”

He stepped towards them and reached out a hand. It was a truce, a weak one, but it was all he would get for now and all he deserved. Greyworm nodded and grasped his hand.

“For the Queen and her children” He exclaimed. “The unsullied will forever fight for House Targaryen”

Jon nodded and turned to his wife’s former lover who stood appeasing him a mixture of intrigue and disgust upon his face. He reached out his calloused hand and Jon grasped it painfully tight. “How could we who came before compare to you your grace, the dragon who gave her children” It was a bitter mutter but Jon heard it all the same. “I will fight for her majesty and her children for as long as I live” He added louder for the hall to hear. “We fight together under the dragon banner. The second sons belong to House Targaryen.”

Jon returned to the dais as Arya stood horn of ale raised in her slender hand. “To the King and Queen, long may they reign!”

“Long may they reign” Echoed the hall as one and Jon reached for Dany’s hand, excitement pumping through his veins. They had their armies. They had their ships. The great game was soon to begin once more, but this time it was he who was making the rules.

The feast began to die down after a while, the fire roared and the ale and wine had began to sink in. Daemon Sand began to sing quietly in a corner before a few onlookers. Arya had joined them on the Dais, Daeron fast asleep in his aunt’s lap as she spoke animatedly about Braavos to Daenerys. Lyanna and Maia had joined the small audience listening to Daemon’s singing, her head lolling sleepily against Jon Connington’s shoulder. It was truly a sight that Jon saw, men and women from all backgrounds together, smiling sharing songs and stories. There was no scheming here, no second agenda. Just peace. It was the cleanest he had felt in a long time and it filled with a happiness that he craved. It would be something he would fight for until his dying breath.

He was about to scoop his children up and carry them to bed when the great double doors opened and Kinvara stepped in quietly swiftly followed by the woman who had healed Rhaegal. In his hazy state her name escaped him. Between them they carried a small ornate crate which they set on the steps before the dais.

Jon sat up a little straighter as they approached in a swirl of ruby and emerald robes. 

“Your grace” Kinvara addressed Daenerys. “I must pledge my priests and priestesses to your cause, and the Lord of Light has commanded me to seal this loyalty with a gift”

“For the King and me?” Daenerys asked pointedly, her eyebrow raised in skepticism over the talk of gods.

Kinvara smiled dangerously. “The Lord of Light has gifted the King with many things, most recently the lives of you and the princess. No this is a gift for you. A gift for the mother of dragons.”

The hall fell silent around them as the women opened the crate to reveal a deep purple swath of velvets, nestled in the middle an egg. Larger than he had ever seen. It was a pale grey, as pale as smoke slashed with swirls of ruby and scaled with darker iron. The breath escaped him and Daenerys reached forward to take the dragons egg in both hands. 

“Essos and Centros stand with you. The warriors of light are yours to command. The Lord of Light has chosen you”

Daenerys stared at the egg with childish wonder but then looked up, all innocence replaced with grief. “I do not believe in the gods”

The other woman smiled understandingly. “We know gracious Queen. But they believe in you”

Daenerys swallowed and looked up, Jon noticed her violet eyes were filled with tears. He placed his hand on her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze and placing his lips on her shoulder.

“The dragon must have three heads” 

He knew the saying. It was old. It was true. It was something his father had said. So Long Ago.


	34. Tyrion - A Loyal Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion arrives at the wall

Tyrion - A Loyal Whore

In the twelve years that Tyrion has been away from the wall, he had never imagined the level of disheveled desolation that had befallen Castle Black. It wasn’t just the state of the crumbling barracks, but the silence that unnerved him. The lack of activity, of noise, of mere human presence all were factors that fuelled his suspicions of his worst fears developing truth. He knew of course that the majority of the night’s watch were wiped out in the war for the dawn, but had he not personally ensured that men were sent north to join the ranks lead by infamous nine hundred and ninety eighth Lord Commander? Even as they stood before the gates Tyrion wished that his once friend would open the gates, a little lined, maybe a little grey but there in black as Jon Snow. A man at peace. The leader of the broken. 

The journey had been far more comfortable than his first to the wall. They had diverted to Last Hearth, the Queen wanting to hold court for her more northern citizens, hearing their woes over food shortage, disrupted land, the shortest summer they had seen. Tyrion has taken the time to plan and strategise. Hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. The Royal decrees of pardons had been drafted. The decree of releasing the Lord Commander of his vows, of reinstating him to his birthright, Dragonstone. Lord Targaryen he was written out to be, Tyrion had even compiled a list of possible brides for the King that never was. He had calculated the cost of his household, had drafted documents upon documents citing his abdication of all royal claimant to the seven kingdoms. Had created a position for him on the small council. Master of Foreign Strategy. Jon would work to secure strong alliances with the north, the free folk, work to rebuild the relationships between Dorne, the Storm land’s, the Iron Islands and the crown. It was a good plan, it was safe and rewarding. Jon Snow would finally be recognised for his achievements. A war hero, an honourable man, his duty praised, his sins of the past, forgiven.

 

Preparing for the worst came in varying levels of threat. If he had been named King beyond the wall, they could deal with that. That was simple and both Sansa and Tyrion were in agreement on that. He could have his wildling crown, so long as he stayed on his side of the wall. If he proved to be no threat after a period of time then the seven kingdoms would reciprocate this peace with trade, commerce and alliances. But if it was more than that, if he wanted to reclaim his Northern Crown, if he posed threat on Winterfell, or worse the Seven Kingdoms? With Dorne, the Stormlands and the Wildlings behind him, well, as Tyrion’s father once said. Heads. Spikes. Walls. With Dorne behind him he had the ships yes, but not the armies to conquer all seven Kingdoms, however the memory of smoke and ash filled Tyrion’s nightmares. Jon Snow could have an army of a hundred and he could still conquer all seven kingdoms. All he needed was Drogon. The Black Dread come again. By allowing the last Targaryen to live, Tyrion knew they had inadvertently created their worst enemy, should he wish to press his claim and seek revenge. Tyrion prayed to all the gods that the last dragon did not know the lengths at which he and Sansa had tirelessly gone to, to ensure the downfall of the mad Queen. 

Two men swathed in black stood at the watch tower looking down, faces muffled to the biting air.  
“Who goes there?” The left called down and beside him Sansa clucked her disapproval.   
“The Queen in the North” Ruari Glover called up. “You’d do better to receive your Queen with grace. Do you not see the crown upon her head? The banners of the royal house?”  
Sansa held up a hand. “Enough, do not chastise them My Lord, they have not seen me since I was a girl without a crown or home. My Lords, we are here to see my brother, Lord Commander Snow.”

The shorter man on the right leered toothlessly. “The Lord Commander ain’t here your grace”  
Tyrion’s stomach dropped and he glanced at Sansa, her frustration evident on her face, despite her fixed smile. “Where is he?” Tyrion asked pointedly dreading the answer.  
The two guards chuckled. “Oh he’s ranging beyond the wall.” The taller of the two replied simultaneously as the short one leered “He’s at Eastwatch”. It would have been comedic had the significance of their in-assurances be so gravely significant, but Tyrion was done with games, recognising the taller man’s western accent he addressed him directly.

“When will he return? From either beyond the wall or Eastwatch.”

“When he decides to, my Lord” The Westerman smiled sarcastically. “He is the Lord Commander after all”

“We wish to speak with him” Sansa interrupted impatiently. “We shall await his return, until then we shall speak to man in command in my brother’s absence, who might that be?”  
The two smirked at each other and then turned back to call down. “There’s no one my Lady, best run on home now, fret not about your brother, he’s doing his duty, protecting you and your little kingdom from all the monsters. The legendary Jon Snow off to fight monsters and ghouls.”  
Tyrion watched as Sansa snapped, all pleasantries pushed aside. “I am Queen in the North, you shall address me as such, and as men of the night’s watch you are obliged to grant me entry when I command it. Take me and my companions to your second in command. Else I might consider your original sentencing when you were sent to this god forsaken place.” 

“Let them in” A third voice drawled, and a younger man appeared between them. He was a handsome man, and uncomfortably reminded Tyrion of the Lord Commander. His long dark hair was curled about his angular face, a neatly trimmed beard framed his chiselled jaw. But he was thinner than Jon Snow, more lithely than lean, and his leathers were perfectly tailored to his form, his expression was a perpetual smirk, his dark eyes alight with amusement as he looked down at their retinue. “You’re asking for the second in command, that would be me. I would be delighted to receive you My Queen of Stark, my Lord of Lannister, I suppose it’s about time you pay us broken men a visit.”

The mess hall was all but deserted when they entered, a steward supplied them with blankets and furs and added wood to the fire as they settled around the table, silently waiting the arrival of Jon Snow’s chosen second in command. 

He arrived swiftly, heaving a large kettle into the room with the aid of the Westerman. Tyrion frowned at this as the men set it upon the fire and the man drew up a stool to stir whatever lay within.

“If I remember correctly did you not have a decent cook when I last visited?” Sansa asked politely breaking the silence.

The man snorted and smirked at the Queen. “Aye my lady, we had a cook”

“Is he unwell? Surely a man of your status should not be stirring broth” Ruari joked but the glower the man gave him wiped the jovial smile of the consort’s face.

“Not unwell my Lord, dead, but of course my Lord of Glover would not know, you see six years ago give or take there was a rather large skirmish at Winterfell against the dead. Our cook died there, he was ripped apart by some feral dead children. He died as well as three hundred and sixty two of my brothers. A mere forty of us remain.” He barked out a bitter laugh “Of course after the battle her grace Queen Daenerys offered to absolve us of our vows but I believe it was.... Lady Stark,who opposed that and as she needed support from the North, The Dragon Queen’s hand was forced. Instead she promised to replenish the numbers with her own armies which we were grateful for, but alas “ The man glared at Tyrion. “The gracious Queen fell upon a knife the eve she won her throne”

“The Lord Commander murdered his Queen” Sansa snapped her impatience for stories of Daenerys Targaryen evident, but all the man did was smirk and chuckle under his breath.

“Oh did he?”

“We didn’t catch your name Commander” Tyrion interrupted pointedly breaking eye contact his heart racing at the accusation.

“My name is Satin”

Ruari sniggered childishly and Tyrion was reminded of the reasons he wasn’t so keen on his former wife’s new husband.

“Laugh, do my Lord.” Satin smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile, Tyrion was the danger behind it, it was unnerving. “I am the bastard son of some knight who paid my mother good coin. A son of a whore who grew up in a whore house and then took his fortune to castle black after murdering the men who raped his sister to death. Of course back then I wasn’t much of a killer. I’m far better at it now.” He flexed his hand as his voice lowered threateningly. “And here I am, a loyal little whore guarding my Lord’s Castle for him”

“Where is Jon Snow, Satin?” Tyrion whispered. “We know he has not been here. When does he intend to return?”

Satin did not speak at first. He scowled over the boiling broth as he dolled it out into bowels and passed them around the table. He made a flourish of ripping the hardened bread loaf into six pieces and only when Tyrion spooned soup into his mouth did Satin sit delicately upon the edge of his stool, straight backed and as gracious as Queen Sansa herself.

“I am confused my Lord, why is the whereabouts of Jon Snow a cause for concern? I can tell you my instructions are always simple. I have command in the absence of the Lord Commander. I am to do what I can and write south when I can and ask for more men.”

“You aren’t concerned for his absence?” Sansa asked. “How long has he been away, do you know where he is Satin? Please we only wish to bring him peace, we are so worried”

Satin laughed. “They tell me you are wise and brave and kind my Queen of Stark and I can believe that. But don’t try to feign concern for Jon Snow it brings out such an ugliness in you.”

The Queen reeled back at the insult, her blue eyes turning icy with anger. 

“Enough with your words dammit. Where is Jon Snow” Podrick growled so fiercely that even Tyrion jumped.

Satin only laughed and gnawed on his bread. “Jon Snow is dead”

Relief was the first instinct reaction that flooded through Tyrion but it was quickly diminished by sense as Satin finished his sentence.

“Died close to eight years ago. Murdered by his own men by allowing the wildlings south of wall. It was a horrific scene, it took seven blades to end him, I can’t imagine the pain”

Satin’s smooth musical voice broke slightly but Tyrion was tired of theatrics.

“You and I both know he is not dead. His whereabouts are a cause for concern because two kingdom’s worth of armies have sailed past Eastwatch, I imagine I don’t have to tell you why they would do such a thing.”

“Have they really, I wouldn’t know of course, we live quite far from the sea, a bit hard to see it.” His tone was mocking. “I can’t imagine why they would do such a thing. Unless of course they were fed up of their enslavement and went to seek out their rightful King” 

It was plain that Satin’s arrogance had got the better of him, he saw the slip of tongue just as much as Tyrion and Sansa heard it.

Rightful King. Westeros would not become a land where rightful Kings and Queens existed. They had worked tirelessly to ensure it. Kings were chosen, selected carefully. No this would not stand.

“Where is Aegon Targaryen” Tyrion asked and the name was like a match to flame. Satin’s expression changed from that of arrogance to malice. 

“You won’t like what you find” He whispered looking to Sansa. “He’s not the man you knew.”

Sansa stood abruptly. “I don’t have to like what I find, I only have to deal with it. I command you to open the gates so that we may pass through the wall and meet my cousin”

“Going through there would be unwise-“

“I do not care for your opinion” Sansa snapped.

Satin held his hands up in défense. “Only because it is the long way. I shall have Edwin escort you to Eastwatch where you can board a ship and sail north. It will take you four days rather than fourteen and I am sure my Lord of Lannister would prefer a shorter journey.”

Tyrion nodded at the gesture. “Aye I would, and I am sure King Brandon would be grateful that this is done quickly. We shall ride for Eastwatch .”

Satin nodded stiffly. “I wish you good fortune on your journey then. But I warned you both, you won’t like what you find up there”

He left them calling orders to the stewards as he did. When he was gone Sansa resumes her seat, fear and anger plains cross her features.

“Write a raven to the King, Tyrion, before we leave. Tell him I shall have every head of Aegon Targaryen’s supporters. Tell him I shall line them on spikes down the kings road from here to Kings Landing for all to see. Let them see what happens to the men, women and children who even think of bowing to the dragon. My mother was right all those years ago, it should have been Jon who was pushed by your brother from that tower. It should have been Jon and he should have died.”

Tyrion sighed nodding. Aye everything would have been easier. He would have died a bastard and none would know otherwise and he knew why Eddard Stark has never told a soul. Such a secret, such a power was best kept hidden, it was like wildfire. It had ignited and now the world was burning because of it. 

As they saddled up Brienne looked down at him appraisingly. “Mayhaps we should pick you up some armour My Lord. I don’t have a good feeling about this voyage.”

Tyrion sighed tiredly. “I have the same feeling Lady Commander, but alas we are doing what the King can’t, and whilst I appreciate your concern however might I remind you that if Aegon Targaryen does have the dragon, no armour will protect me.”

“He may not have the dragon. He did after all kill it’s mother” Podrick noted as he kicked his horse into a trot. 

“But the dragon didn’t kill him. It was the first one to find the dead Queen, he could have burnt him on the spot”

“Fire can not kill a dragon” Tyrion replied sardonically. “Do me a favour Pod when we meet Aegon Targaryen, Get a good swing at him if you can, it will be easier to deal with the rest if their leader is dead.”

Pod smirked. “That would be ironic wouldn’t it, I do carry the remnants of his father’s sword, well his uncles, but all the same. Be fitting wouldn’t it for Ice to defeat the Dragon”

Tyrion smiled at the poetic irony of the thought. “And you Brienne, the best swordsman I’ve ever seen. Sword or Dagger I don’t care, just shove a blade in him, I’m too old for war now”

Brienne nodded, determination set in her jaw. “If it comes to it, of course My Lord. It took seven blades to end him once, I’m sure we can do that again”

Podrick made a skeptically sound and Tyrion twisted in his saddle to his old squire.

“He came back though didn’t he, what if-“

“He came back with the help of a priestess who is long dead and gone. Do you know of any more fire priestesses in Westeros?” Brienne retorted.

“Not on this side of the narrow sea” Tyrion whispered and a chill that wasn’t the frost ran up his spine. There was one priestess that he knew of.

But no.

Kinvara was far away in a temple he had never seen, with no clear motive to offer an unknown Targaryen any assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Satin - if anyone is interested my fan cast for Satin is Edward Bluemel from Killing Eve and a Discovery of Witches


	35. Arya - Imminence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King and Queen call a War Council

Arya - Imminence

Arya watched the sun rise from the little frosted balcony wrapped in nothing but Gendry’s cloak. Gendry was fast asleep, his over large limbs stretched over the bed they unofficially shared. Jon and Daenerys had provided her with her own rooms, on the other side of Aemon’s Port. They were comfortable, with a solar, bed chambers, a small bath house and a reception room. They overlooked the water but she preferred Gendry’s which were situated near the central city square . Arya enjoyed watching as their little portion of peace rose to live the lives they had built. In the mornings the square became a hubbub of noise, food and people. Freefolk, Westerosi and Essosi all came together over kettles of porridge, loaves of bread, salted fish and mead. It was a serene sight and Arya was reminded of those days in Winterfell as a child, how it would be the same. But the Winterfell of her childhood now only existed in her dreams. In the morning light she examined Longclaw. It truly was a work of art and Gendry had explained to her exactly how it would have been made amidst the dragon fire forges of Valyria. She had taken to training with Jon in their spare time so Arya could get used to his infamous sword. She had never sparred with Jon before. He was relentless, his strength and prowess was unmatched and more times than not Arya was flat on her back in the mud. But she persisted. Where Jon was strong and tactical, Arya was quick and unpredictable. They were well matched and more times than not Arya grateful they were fighting on the same side. 

Gendry’s light snoring had stopped and Arya turned from her little stool to see his deep blue eyes cracked open and a lazy grin spread over his face. The bruising had almost all faded from his eye socket and jaw. The cuts and scars from gauntlet covered punches were fading, yet even beneath all of it, Gendry still remained impossibly handsome. 

She scoffed at the thought, Arya had never been one to fawn after handsome knights. That had always been Sansa, a part of her still wondered whether her estranged sister still thought that way, or had the world beaten it out of her like they had her kindness and compassion. For Arya though, it seemed her own compassion was slowly returning. Her heart, once so stoney, so hardened, was softening. Every time Gendry stared at her she felt it warm, every time her niece and nephew demanded her attention, Arya dreamt of having her own children, small and wild all black haired and blue eyed. But that would never happen. Gendry was Warden of the South , she of the North. They were needed in opposite ends of the country. They could not have children together. Arya knew her duty, yet she savoured these moments, this life before their victory, part of her hoped the war would be long, selfishly so that she could pretend just for a few years that Gendry Baratheon was hers, and she was his.

“Do you Stark’s not feel the cold at all” Gendry grumbled sleepily as he glowered at the open balcony door. “It’s fucking winter”

Arya laughed. “It is Spring Lord Baratheon -“

“Don’t call me that” He snapped rolling onto his back, arms resting behind his head as he puffed out a cloud of breath.

Arya stood shrugging off the cloak and moved to the bed smirking. “As you wish my Lord”

He chuckled at her words - words he had said once to her all those years ago. “You could come keep me warm my Lady we still have a few hours before we are needed for anything ” His left arm snaked around the back of her bare thighs pulling her closer but Arya stood firm shaking her head.

“We’re needed now. There’s to be a war council meeting”

Gendry frowned. “How the hell do you know that?” 

Arya held up three fingers and silently counted down to one. Sure enough as her last finger disappeared into a fist, the door came crashing open and Em rushed in, his skinny arms full of lordly garments, cheeks flushed with cold and eyes now wide at the sight of Arya naked standing over his master. “The King and Queen have called a war council meeting!” He panted.

Gendry stared at Arya bewildered at her foresight and then glared at Em.

“What did I tell you about knocking Em!”

The boy spun and stared at the door way he had just entered through as Arya pulled on short and breeches.

“To do so my Lord” He replied. 

“Aye! To do so! I ought to clout you on the ear”

“My apologies my Lord and my Lady Stark - you never normally have company. I never have to knock at Storms End”

Arya laughed as she laced up her leather girdle and pulled on her jacket. “The boy meant no harm and he’s quite right but next time know to knock Em” She rummaged in her pocket and tossed a silver stag at him. “For your trouble”

Em turned at the sound of the coin flipping through the air and caught it smirking. “You’re kind my Lady, thank you.”

Arya pulled on her boots and strapped Longclaw to her hip. Picking an apple from the bowl on the desk she took a large bite and then twirled as she exited the room.

“Better hurry Baratheon, can’t keep my brother waiting nor his Queen”

“Oi!” He shouted after her but Arya didn’t turn. “That’s my shirt!”

 

Jon was fighting with Daeron and a spoon of porridge when Arya entered the throne room. The small boy was trying to grab the end of the spoon ensuring that the hot oats were squished in his tiny fist and Arya could see Jon was getting more and frustrated with his son. Arya picked up a piece of crisp bacon from a nearby plate and held it out to Daeron who grabbed it eagerly and chewed on it gleefully. “Arra!” He proclaimed as the grease dribbled down his chin.

Jon huffed and leaned back in his chair. “Told him he could have the bacon after he ate his porridge”

Arya smirked and took a swig of ale from a cup on the table. “Yes but now he’s calm and you aren’t covered in muck. I thought this was a war council meeting not a parents of small children convention . Your wife has seemed to attend dressed appropriately for the occasion” 

She bowed her head as Daenerys entered, dressed regally as usual, her charcoal jacket laced tightly to her throat, her ruby skirts flowing beneath, her silver hair braided into a half crown upon her head. 

“Don’t be fooled by my appearance Lady Stark” Daenerys said as she kissed Arya on both cheeks. “I looked just as ragged as the King not moments ago”

Her hand reached up to the collar of Arya’s shirt thumbing the embroidered stag that she knew was there. “All of us seemed to be in a rush this morning”

The Queen gave her a knowing smirk but did not press the matter so Arya moved to take her seat at the table, lined with the map of Westeros. Giving up on his son and any attempt to make him eat his breakfast, Jon stood and pulled on a dark leather jerkin over his shirt and stood patiently as Daenerys linked a silver chain about his torso and threaded through a scaled red cloak over his right shoulder. They were matching, the Dragon King and Queen of equal beauty and severity. 

Arya felt a tug on her sleeve and looked over to her niece who stood beaming at her.

“Good morning Princess are you joining this meeting”

“Mama said I could but Papa said I’m not allowed. Please can I stay Auntie Ara? I’ll be good, like a Princess!”

Arya laughed and brought Lyanna onto her lap and reaching for parchment and a stick of charcoal. “You can stay, tell you what how about you write down all the houses that are our friends and then on the other side write all the houses who aren’t our friends. Do you understand?”

The little girl nodded and slipped off paper and charcoal in hand. “Did you hear that Daer? Auntie Ara said we can stay”

Jon scowled as he sat at the head of the map. “She’s too young. They both are”

Arya shrugged. “They won’t understand Jon and they certainly won’t listen. It’s not a bad thing to witness how their parents rule in all aspects.”

“Aye but not at the age of five and three”

“So you’re going to leave them here when we go south?” Arya argued fiddling with the wolf figurine in front of her.

“Of course I’m not-“

“So you are taking your children to war. They need to understand what you’ll be doing because otherwise they’ll hear it from someone else. Lyanna will remember this and she will need to if she is to be Queen-“

“She will be” Jon growled fiercely.

“Aye on a dynasty that shall be rebuilt for her. She needs to understand why it was built and how.”

Before Jon could argue the rest of the council entered chatting amicably. Arya glanced up at Gendry who had indeed found another shirt. He returned her gaze and smirked and Arya felt the heat return to the pit of her stomach as she remembered their activities from the night before. He took his place three seats down from her, the empty spaces soon filled by Arianne Martel, Davos and Lady Seaworth. Opposite them Tormund, Freida Yara Greyjoy, Grey Worm and Irri all took their places whilst Jon Connington took his stance by the children’s small table in the corner. Finally came Daemon Sand and Daario Nahaaris who stood beside the only knight of the Dragon’s Guard.

Daenerys and Jon remained standing at the head of the table commanding silence around the hall.

“One hundred thousand fighting men and women” Daenerys began. “An armada to match that of Queen Nymeria of Old. Seventy thousand horses, Unsullied Soldiers, Dothraki Free riders, Centrosi Warriors, The Freefolk, The fire priests and priestesses, two Kingdoms, two dragons and one direwolf . That is how we win this war. That is how we build the new world” The Queen smiled serenely and placed her hands upon the table. “Shall we begin?”

There was a murmur of assent and Jon cleared his throat. “As the Queen has said, we have the armies, the navy and we command the air. We have the alliances of two out of seven kingdoms. We have the upper hand physically, but this war will be about more than physical strength.” He took a breath. “The Three eyed raven has strength of the mind. He will know our moves as we make them, and any decision you make he will know in advance and will manipulate the factors surrounding you to entice you to betray ones you love. The only minds he cannot tap is the Queen’s and my own. Therefore the armies we have gathered are not for his destruction, that is a path that only the Queen and I can take, with the help of Kinvara, Santulana and their people. What we ask of you all is to help us with the rest. With Westeros. A new and better one than the shit one we’ve known. You have all stayed here long enough to see our vision. This is what we shall spread” Her brother reached for a dragon figurine and placed over Winterfell. “Starting with the North”

“I have fought for the North my entire life, Queen Daenerys fought and saved the North at great cost to herself, and for it we were repaid with lies, deceit and treason. Any Northern Lord and Lady who wishes to join us may do so but their Queen shall be made an example of what happens when you go against the dragon. We have long memories and for Westeros to prosper the North must be reinstated as a Kingdom of Westeros under the Targaryen Crown, with our warden of the North governing its people. So we shall invade the North first”

A murmur of ascent echoed around the table but Arya was studying the map intently. 

“Lady Stark” Daenerys prompted. “You are in agreement?”

Arya looked up at them both and shook her head. “I don’t agree”

Anger and frustration crossed her brothers face but Arya stood. “Hear me out”

Taking the dragon figurine into her hand she moved it further south to settle over the vale. “Your enemy is in Winterfell aye, but her direct allies are the Vale and the Rkverlands. The north will call them, the river lands have fought for the King in the North before and the Vale has answers Sansa’s call to arms before. They will do so, and Sansa would expect you to invade the North first. As soon as you move in, so do her allies. You need to cut her off at the legs. That leaves her only the armies of the west and the reach, men who will not March that far north nor cross enemy lands To fight for a woman they do not know. We effectively create a blockade. Cut off White harbour too, but do not starve the city. Feed them but do not allow any food or gold out of the city. The north will see how we treat our friends, especially the common people, and I would feel more secure in the North if I had the Manderley’s on our side”

Jon surveyed her impressed. “A good plan, it leaves the North isolated and gets rid of the smallest kingdoms in the south.”

“It’s good apart from one thing” Daemon Sand interrupted. “The eyrie is impregnable, even with our armies we would never get through the bloody gate”

“We don’t need to get through the bloody gate” Arianne pointed out gazing up at the Queen. “We simply have to fly over it.”

Daenerys nodded knowingly. “Agreed, we command the skies, it is how Visenya Targaryen won the Vale in the conquest.”

“Aye but Robyn Arryn is not a small boy who will be in awe of dragons. You won’t entice him with a ride on Drogon’s back, he is a man grown” Arianne argued pointedly but the Queen smiled wider.

“I quite agree Princess, but in my experience men grown are quite terrified of fire”

At this point Arya was only half listening, there was commotion outside, she could hear a galloping horse, several shouts and then the double doors burst open. Instinctively Arya gripped the pommel of her sword as the figure swathed in black furs half limped half ran through the hall, bowing as he went. When he stood Jon made a noise of surprise and rounded the table quickly grasping for the man’s shoulders.

“Satin, we weren’t expecting you for another fortnight” 

The man gasped for breath. “Your grace, My Queen, they’re coming, I’m sorry we tried to stop them but all we....were able to do....was send them the long way.”

“Who’s coming” Daenerys’ voice was void of emotion and Arya knew that the Queen had guessed who ‘they’ could be.

“The imp and the red Queen, asking for Jon, well...demanding really. There was no point lying to them they would have waited as long as it took until you returned to Castle Black your grace”

The Queen went very still, her violet eyes trained on her husband who too had frozen, his hand on the black brother’s shoulder.

“How long do we have?” Jon said evenly.

“They took ship from Eastwatch” Satin replied his breathing slowing. “They’ll be here by dawn”

“How many?” The King muttered but Satin was shaking his head.

“No armies I don’t think they saw you as much of a threat. That or they think they can negotiate some sort of deal with you.”

Jon snorted derisively. “Not a chance, we can evacuate all but the free folk up into the mountains-“

“Why?” Daenerys asked. “Why should we hide from them? The reality of the situation will far exceed their expectations. I say let them come, let them see our strength and let them fear it. It’s time the world knows that Fire and Blood is coming for them, let them see what that looks like.”

Jon turner taking his Queen in his arms. “You’re sure?”

Daenerys smiled. “I am, I’m not hiding in some cave whilst you meet the people who plotted my demise.   
I won’t miss out on that opportunity”

 

Sleep did not come easily that night. She had joined Gendry for supper, but they had said very little. Sansa was coming, the Queen in the North, her crown was hollow, the path she had taken to gain it bloody and treacherous, she knew that at the end of this Sansa would not survive, but whether her head would be taken now or later she did not know. Arya knew that the old Jon would perhaps give Sansa a chance for redemption, but she knew that Aegon Targaryen had no patience for redemption, not after what she had done. As for the Queen, Arya was not sure. 

Arya extracted herself from Gendry’s tangle of limbs and dressed in the dark. She strapped Longclaw to her hip and exited the room. As she opened the door however Arya was met with the Queen, fist raised to knock on the carved wood. Her appearance was striking, she wore a dress made of black scaling that resembled chain mail slashed with blood red velvet. Around her shoulders was black fur pinned by a cross chain. By the light of the torches Arya could see her hair had been braided complexly to the name of her neck, Rhaenys’ crown gleamed in the torchlight.

“Your grace” Arya whispered. “I....Good morning”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Good Morning Lady Stark, I thought I might find you here, I had something made for you”

She held up the bundle in her arms and Arya realised it was a cloak.

“Jon told me that your father wore something similar, I ensured the fur was grey like your wolf had been.”

Arya couldn’t help but smile. “How did you know I had a grey wolf?”

“Arya I have a wolf that sleeps at the foot of my bed and follows my husband at every turn. I was curious.”

It was sweet, and thoughtful and suddenly before her Arya saw a woman trying her best to form a connection. It had been years since anyone had given her a gift like this. The Wrapping the cloak around her shoulders she felt the weight of the embroidered material lined with fur. The leather cross straps were embossed with the direwolf of her house, but she also noticed the embroidered trout about the hem, stitched in a deep blue, set at intervals between silver daggers replicating the catspaw that sat at her left hip. 

“Thank you your grace, this is” She gulped down the lump in her throat. “This is very kind”

Daenerys beamed. “It is the least I can do, you are a valuable part of the council and your strategy yesterday for the invasion was extremely insightful” she gestured out of the doorway. “Would you walk with me?”

Aemon’s Port was a flurry of activity once again, as teams of men and women prepared for the intrusion of their uninvited guests. Every flag pole and every window hung the Targaryen Banner. The path from the dock gates to the Great Hall was lined with Dothraki and Unsullied, their eyes trained on the gates as the inky sky began to turn a shade of deep blue. As they turned up the path to the cliffs Arya could see Yara Greyjoy shouting orders to her captains as they moved hundreds of ships into a complex crisscross preventing nought but a fishers boat to pass through. They would not allow Sansa and Tyrion’s ship to dock, they would be met by a row boat, told to leave any weapons in the ship and be escorted to shore.

“You seem to be very close with my cousin Lady Stark” Daenerys said after a while.

“Your cousin?” Arya asked nodded at a passing team of archers marching swiftly ahead of them murmuring “your grace” and “my lady “ as they passed.

“Yes, Lord Baratheon, If I am not mistaken he is the great grandson of Rhaelle Targaryen who was the sister of my Grandfather King Jaeherys, daughter to Aegon the fifth. In truth it was my father who was cousin to Steffon Baratheon but there’s very few of my original family, I will take what I can get.”

It wasn’t new news to Arya’s ears, but she had never thought about Gendry’s relation to the ancient house like that, nor had Gendry in truth . 

“Then you are in luck your grace” Arya quipped. “Robert has many bastards scattered across the seven kingdoms, all are descendants of your great aunt”

“You didn’t answer my question” Daenerys smiled. “You are close with him no?”

“We have been friends for a very long time, we met in Kings Lansing shortly after my fathers execution. I was nine and pretending to be a boy”

Daenerys raised her eyebrows. “I see and how long did it take him to figure out that you weren’t a boy?”

Arya laughed. “Not too long a few months maybe, realised I wasn’t pissing with the others”

“So you became fast friends, but now I can see plainly that you are far more than just friends”

Arya felt herself blushing despite the biting air. “Aye, you’re correct. You know the first thing he did when you legitimised him was ask for my hand in marriage”

Daenerys stopped abruptly. “You turned him down”

Arya nodded. “I was young and foolish and thought myself something more than I am. He has never married, he loves me and now I see he loves me for who I am”

“Do you love him?” The Queen asked her voice full of sadness.

Arya sniffed looking down at her boots. “I think I do.”

“Then I am sorry that the King and I have made it impossible for this love to come to fruition.”

Arya looked up at Daenerys, she did look truly sorry. “It is fine your grace, there is a war to win so we will enjoy the last few moments we have together before duty separates us again”

Daenerys turned on the path to look at the eastern sky as it had begun to bleed red. “They will be here soon, this mummers farce of diplomacy.”

“Are you going to kill my sister today Daenerys?” Arya did not mean to ask it aloud and yet she was glad she did. She would not lie to the Targaryen Queen, nor would she let herself make assumptions.

Daenerys sighed. “I’m not sure. It would be easy to of course, and in the short term it would solve many problems. But killing her today .... it would turn her into a Martyr, it would mean taking the North with full force, I want people to survive. If your sister does today it would mean that none in the North would ever come aider bending the knee and surrendering. She would forever be a martyr”

“So you are going to be diplomatic?” 

Daenerys laughed. “No, Jon intends to scare her. She is coming up against two monarchs who have been at war our whole lives, whereas she has never lead her people to war, your brother tells me she can barely read a map”

Arya snorted, it was true, Sansa’s Geography skills were terrible, they always had been.

“What of Tyrion Lannister? What shall become of him today?”

Daenerys hissed at the name and resumed their walk. “I do not know. I just want to see his face when he sees me alive. When he realises all his plans, his schemes have failed. After that I am not sure. He and Sansa have severely underestimated what I am capable of. Kings Landing was nothing.... and Jon. They’ve underestimated Jon his entire life. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a Targaryen. There is a fire within him that even I cannot contain. When they see what he will do with their empires of dirt they will beg for death” Daenerys’ face glazed over, a stiff look of intimidation carved likes ice into her features. Here before her stood the dragon queen.“I would like to see them beg”

As the sun began to peek over the horizon the Queen seemed to acknowledge what she had just said.”I’m sorry my Lady, I know she is your sister “

Arya stared out to where a ship was becoming visible as it sailed around a cliff in the black still water. 

“She was my sister once, now I don’t know who she is. Even then, we were fighting for a bond that never really existed in the first place.”

They continued walking until they reached the plateau on which was built a large spiked wheel manned by four soldiers. Beside them stood Daemon Sand and the Red Priestess Kinvara. Both bowed when Daenerys reached them. Daenerys stepped forward her eyes trained on the black sails which carried her enemies towards them.

Arya could see figures moving above deck, a woman even at this distance Arya knew to be her sister stood at the bow staring straight ahead at what would’ve to herself an overpopulated wildling settlement. She felt herself drawing back her shoulders, standing taller and with authority, this was not a time to be sentimental, what Sansa had done was inexcusable, she would pay for her crimes.

“Dovoghedi” Daenerys commanded the four unsullied before her who all snapped to attention. “Raise the chain”

The four soldiers quickly went about wrenching the wheel so that the heavy chain which dangled off the plateau 20 feet into the water began to lift until it would become taught, just at mast height.

“My Queen” Kinvara announced sweeping towards them in her deep red robes. “How can we be of service to you?”

“Have a pyre built, and wait for my signal, we may have use of it today”

Arya felt the beating of heavy wings as Daenerys turned her attentions to the sky. Sure enough Drogon landed beside her in a flurry of dirt, ice and gravel. He was so large his tail curled off the side of the cliffs, it’s too just skimming the rippling waves below. The Queen climbed gracefully despite her long skirts upon his back, that icy glare carving itself once more into her features. 

“I shall see you there” She called down to them both. “Lady Stark you have command, Ser Daemon, should you see any of their knightly retinue try and lay even a finger on my people, kill them personally”

Daemon bowed. “At once your grace”

With a roar Drogon took off into the lightening sky and Arya see across the Fjord that Rhaegal had also took to the sky, his roar mixing with his brother’s.

Arya looked back down the path she had come, now filled with close to two thousand archers and took a deep breath.

“ARCHERS. AT THE READY!”

The sound of bows being lifted and strings being drawn taught filled Arya with an energy that she had not felt since the battle for the dawn. 

“ON MY COMMAND. STAND BY!”

They moved in synchrony their arrows trained on the little ship as it moved through the water, but Arya felt herself looking up at the sky and for the first time in her life she thought to herself.

I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, there you there sits the only King and Queen I intend to bend my knees to. Up there on dragon back, not the woman down there on the deck of a ship. Not that woman with her hollow crown and her bloody hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa play ‘Dracarys’
> 
> Thanks again for all of your support I so appreciate it. Well the big moment is almost here- I wanted you to have an insight into Arya’s strategic mind before Sansa and Tyrion arrived. Also pick up on a few things said in this chapter and it will give you an idea of where this war is going


	36. Jon - Don’t Breathe When I Talk Because You Haven’t Been Spoken To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The uninvited guests arrive and Jon and Dany show them what has become of House a Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you are all well! Thanks so much and here it is part 1 of the long awaited meeting.
> 
> Music inspires me a lot through this story and I am compiling a soundtrack 
> 
> This chapter was inspired by   
> Out of the Black by Royal Blood

Jon - Don’t breathe when I talk, you haven’t been spoken to.

When Jon looked into his reflection he could find very little of Jon Snow. The kindness that once lay in his grey eyes was gone. They were not Stark eyes anymore, they were burning charcoal now filled with darkness, the only indication of how hot the fire within burned, threatening always to explode, to escape and burn the world to ashes. 

Steffon Seaworth, who had become his squire, had helped him dress that morning, the boy carefully fastening his black plated armour, his nimble hands adorning the black fur across his shoulders with the silver chain that The Queen had made for him. Jon had strapped Blackfyre to his left hip and when Steffon has placed the crown upon his head, Jon Snow had disappeared, only Aegon Targaryen existed now. The man Jon had been so terrified of all those years ago stood before the mirror, unashamed, righteous and powerful. 

Daenerys has left early, taking the cloak she had been making for Arya with her. She had looked so lovely Jon had mused as she had kissed him lightly dressed in their house colours, the armour of her dress almost gleaming in the firelight. Lovely and Powerful. His warrior Queen, his dragon. 

Jon had deposited the children with Freida and instructed her to keep them away from the business of today. Daeron had screamed his protest and Lyanna had stomped her feet but they both quietened when they saw that their father was not playing today. He knew what they saw, they didn’t see their doting father that morning, only the King, stern and dangerous.

As the ship had came sailing into the harbour, Jon had taken to the skies with Daenerys flying higher and higher their dragons roaring into the crisp air. He no longer cared if they saw both dragons. Let them know. Let them see the power of House Targaryen and let them fear it. 

As Jon had made his decent back to earth Daenerys had called out to him.

“Wait for me Aegon”

Jon had grinned back at her, the speed and wind euphoria in his veins. “Always” he had shouted and had returned to the ground as the Queen continued to circle through the air, her eldest son gleeful to have his mother command him once again.

So he waited, upon his throne as his court slowly gathered around him all silent with baited breath wondering how this meeting between enemies would play out. It had been five years since he had laid eyes on Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister. The two who had forced him to bring it all crashing down. The crimes they had committed, the treason and lies, it was all unforgivable. Nothing they could do now could remedy that. Nothing they could say, however much Jon knew they would talk and negotiate. No more. No more manipulation. He had never wanted to be King, never wanted the iron throne yet they had advanced his birthright for their benefit, like a pawn in their games. There was no game any more. No plans, no secrets, no tricks - only Fire and Blood.

Tormund and Davos trudged into the hall, their expressions equally grim as they took their seats that lined both walls.

“Thoughts?” Jon asked quietly and Tormund leered.

“Arrogant, entitled and wearing clothes that aren’t warm enough”

Jon couldn’t help but smirk but he motioned for his hand to continue.

“They shat themselves when they saw the dragons. Baratheon and Martell are ensuring that their weapons are left at shore. They’ll soon see what they are dealing with.”

Jon nodded stiffly kneading his knuckles into the arm of his throne. “We do not start without the Queen”

Jon reached down to ghost, curled at his feet. “Tell her it’s time” He whispered to the wolf, who promptly stood, stretched and slinked off in search of his mistress.

“Your grace?” Maia asked from the small table where she was pouring wine. “Shall I announce you when they arrive?”

Jon smiled at the girl but shook his head. “No wait for the Queen, Maia.” She nodded fervently. Jon turned to address the room at large.

“Should any of our uninvited guests make a threat against the a Queen take their tongues. Should any of them make an attempt on her life seize them. I shall kill them myself”

“Your grace” Davos cleared his throat. “Words like that, they will think you your grandfather”

“Good, maybe I am my grandfather” Jon snapped. “They wanted a King, this is what they get. We are not playing by their rules Davos”

The sound of boots marching through mud became evident and all eyes trained on the double doors. Years of fighting, years of hardship and Jon could feel the weight of the cold steel upon his head. This was it. It was time to leave Jon Snow behind and become the man Ned Stark has never wanted him to become.

She had dared to wear a crown. A silver thing, two direwolves twisted about her head. It wasn’t the northern crown of old that he knew Robb had worn, that they had tried to make him wear. Jon found himself remembering the crown that Cersei Lannister had fashioned for herself. Sansa wore white and grey furs, pristine apart from the fresh mud which soaked the hem. She wore some sort of silver breast plate which seemed more for decoration rather than actual protection and looped about her neck as ever the queer needle and chain. 

The man beside her could only be Ruari Glover, the husband she had taken upon her accession, the political prisoner she used to gain Glover’s allegiance. He was comely enough, dark hair, dark eyes but he looked more like a guard to his Queen rather than a husband. 

Five years had not been kind to Tyrion Lannister. His once golden hair was grey, his scarred face lined prematurely and his whole frame seemed to sag as he took in his surroundings. It satisfied Jon to see such concern and despair on the imp’s face.

“What the hell is this” Sansa barked. “By the old gods and the new what do you think you are doing here? I had hoped dear brother that the rumours were false, that you were loyal to me! Explain yourself”

The fire that ignited within Jon threatened to explode but he took a breath and blinked at her slowly. “We wait for the Queen” Was all he said, evenly and politely as possible.

Sansa gaped at him and then whirled to Arianne Martell adorned in her orange velvets and bronze suns that circled her head as she moved to sit beside Ser Davos. “You are not his Queen?”

The dornish princess smirked. “And they told me you were intelligent, look around you Stark, if you have to ask who the Queen is then you are not prepared for the oncoming storm”

Jon was not interested in his sister’s response, instead he looked back at Tyrion Lannister, whose face had fallen into more despair. It was the face of a man who did not want to believe what was happening, all the while knowing exactly what was going on. “You took a knife in the heart for your people” He muttered his green eyes boring in Jon’s.

“We wait for the Queen” was all he said and then sat back enjoying the sight of Sansa Stark gaping bewildered like a fish as she attempted to overcome the sheer stubbornness that rested within her. Jon silently noted the armour that both Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne donned, not unsurprised to see not that of a direwolf engraved but a raven in flight a third eye engraved into the centre of its forehead. Apart from the huffing from Sansa the room was silent, waiting poised for the next move. It gave Jon a moment of peace, to clear his mind, he could feel the pressure building at the base of his skull, knew that the Three Eyed Raven’s présence was causing it, trying to penetrate his mind, but Jon would not allow it.

The sound of marching once more sounded and Jon looked to Maia who stepped backwards up onto the lower step as the double doors once more opened and a procession of unsullied cleared the way, unceremoniously pushing Sansa and Tyrion’s retinue to one side as Grey Worm and Daario Nahaaris entered followed by Arya and Ghost and then finally with the blood red hood pulled up over her head, Daenerys. Jon stood immediately his eyes meeting hers in triumph.

“All rise for her majesty the Queen” Maia called and the scraping of chairs and benches filled the hall as the court rose and bowed to their Queen. “Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the First Men, the Rhoynar and the Free Folk, Queen of Dragon’s Bay, Khaleesi of the great grass sea, the Mother of Dragons, the unburnt, the breaker of chains, the reborn”

Sansa looked to be choking on air as Dany swept past her up the steps and towards Jon who bowed slightly. He lifted the hood from her face, brushing off the snowflakes as he went, his fingers warming her icy cheek. She turned and together Jon and Daenerys resumed their throne. 

“You lied to us” Sansa spat finally her face flushed with anger. “You told us you killed her”

“Maybe next time Lady Stark you ask a man to kill someone for you ensure that he does not know the circumstances that pertain to bringing said victim back to life.” Daenerys said smiling a smile that did not reach her eyes.

“Do not call my Lady Stark” Sansa spat refusing to look at her.

Daenerys smiled. “My apologies” she gestured to Glover. “Lady...Glover if I’m not mistaken? Or is it Lady Lannister, tell me does anyone know if that marriage was annulled?”

“I am Sansa Stark, Queen in the North and we are not here to discuss my marriages”

“Then pray, do tell us what we are here to discuss” Jon interrupted impatiently. “You weren’t invited and I’m sure it’s not for a family catch up”

“You are in open rebellion of the crown” Sansa snapped.

“Which one?” Jon asked childishly. “There are two aren’t there? If anything Sansa you are in open rebellion against the crown, you have declared yourself independent, defying the law of 1AC declaring that all seven kingdoms are United under one King or Queen.”

“The law was changed” Tyrion interrupted hoarsely. “At the great council of 303AC by the great houses of Westeros, the vote was unanimous”

Jon smirked but it was Daenerys who spoke. “House Targaryen was not present at that summit. We are a great house of Westeros”

“House Targaryen lost its right to be present at any summit when you slaughtered millions of innocents in the burning of King’s Landing”

“I may have slaughtered millions, but Aegon Targaryen the true son of Rhaegar Targaryen did not. He had just as much right to be there as any of you”

“He was a prisoner of your men-“Sansa retorted angrily.

“As was Tyrion Lannister. If I remember correctly that summit as you call it, was a trial called for Tyrion Lannister for the premeditated regicide of his own Queen” Jon snarled. 

“The North is mine by right, I am the daughter of Eddard Stark” Sansa pushes on, her tone rising, panicked.

Jon laughed harshly. “Eddard Stark was not a King.”

“No but Robb Stark was, as his sister I am next in -“

Sansa was truly grasping as straws now, it made it so much more satisfying as Jon reached for the old parchment held in Tormund’s outstretched hand. 

Jon cleared his throat and read.

“If upon my death I have produced no issue of my own I hereby declare that Jon Snow, natural son of Eddard of the House Stark, is my heir in body and soul. Upon my death the Northern crown shall pass to him alone. - This was signed by all the major houses of the North in 299AC. Why do you think Wyman Manderley named me King in the North?”

“You lost your crown” Sansa spat. “When you bedded a Tyrant”

Daenerys did not react to the insult but it took all of Jon’s restraint not to lash out. He took a breath to even out his anger but it was Arya who spoke, surprising the entire court.

“He didn’t lose his crown. He abdicated it, and not to a tyrant but to a woman who had just saved his life at the cost of her son.”

Sansa rounded on her sister, fury flushing her cheeks scarlet. “You would side with them? With her? After what she’s done?”

Arya stared at her sister evenly and Jon could feel his stomach twist momentarily with guilt at pitting the Stark sisters against each other. 

“I will Not side with you” Arya snarled. “Not what after you’ve done. You call her a tyrant, a murderer, and yet your path to your self proclaimed throne is just as bloody dear sister.” She spat the final word, disgust twisting her features, her hand gripping the pommel of Longclaw so tightly that Jon could see the whites of her knuckles.

Sansa laughed derisively. “What I’ve done? Do enlighten me as to what that might be”

“You broke a holy vow that you made to your liege Lord” Daenerys spoke up her tone neutral but clearly dangerous . “You conspired with Cersei Lannister and told her my exact movements ensuring that, as you put it in your letters, the advisors who followed me blindly were removed from my side. You called on Lord Varys to dispose of me and put Jon on the throne knowing what would happen to King’s Landing. You even, and I thought even you Lady Stark were better than this, brokered a deal with Euron Greyjoy offering your hand in marriage if he took out Cersei Lannister, myself and Jon Snow. Quite the web you spun, do you deny it?”

Sansa took a step back a small smirk playing on her lips which ignited Jon fury.

“I deny it” Sansa proclaimed. “You weren’t there, none of you know the truth.”

“Well” Daenerys smiled sweetly. “That would be true but we have the letters Lady Stark. Your treasons and schemes are written down, the ink is dry. You’re intelligent Sansa, there is no denying it but so was Cersei Lannister and Lord Varys, so were the Masters of the free cities, the Khals of the Dothraki, the Warlocks of Quarth. All intelligent. All dead.”

The Queen stood every eye was upon her and Jon could not help but admire his Queen and her courage, her power. 

“The North will know of your treason. I will tell them. If they do not believe me then Jon will tell them. You will abdicate your crown to House Targaryen. You will be escorted home with our warden of the North and some of my advisors and will be arrested for your crimes and tried. No harm will come to your children, no harm will come to your husband. You will be executed in a manner that befits the station of a rebel Queen and the North will no longer suffer under a ruler built of plots and lies.”

“I will not”

It was enough to ignite the rage in Jon which had been simmering all morning. He clenched his fist clenched around the armrest of his throne.

“Steffon” He called evenly to his squire who stood immediately. “Bring me Blackfyre”

Dany spun on the spot her eyes questioning. This was not part of the plan. But he knew she could see the anger in his eyes, the flames she often yearned for. It would be easy now, to take the sword and let loose of Sansa Stark’s head. He met his sister’s eyes, ice cold not a trace of fear as Brienne, Podrick and her husband all moved to surround her. 

“You would take your own blood’s life?” Sansa asked coolly. “After you vowed to protect me? You said that you would never let anyone hurt me at yet you sit there waiting for a sword to be in your hands so that you can slay me.you disgust me bastard.”

Jon remained silent for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest, when he spoke it was slowly and quietly but it wrapped the attention of the room. 

“My vow? You speak of vows but you have broken the one I asked of you. The one that would send the world tumbling into ash and you broke it, for your own gain, your own power. You have proved today that you are not capable of redemption. You have not changed, simply manifested yourself into the very Queen you despised your entire childhood. You have betrayed those closest to you and for what? Silver upon your head? Men grovelling at your feet? No dear cousin it is you who disgusts me, your actions, your lies and schemes go against every value you your father instilled upon you. Give me one reason Sansa why I should not execute you for I cannot see any”

“She’s a mother” Ruari Glover’s voice trembled as he spoke. “That is a reason. She has two children who are expecting her to return. A boy of three, a girl barely a babe at breast. Let them see her again. There is to be a war, if we can take anything from today,it will be that. Men and women will be lost. As the Queen’s consort and husband I beg you to let her live, for today, to return to her home and explain to her children what will happen. I do not wish to bury my wife beside her father and brothers yet. You will win this war” He turned to Sansa, his face apologetic. “Do not fool yourself your grace but forgive me, they will win.” He turned back eyes pleading not with Jon but with Daenerys. “Please. Let us fight for a Queen we chose, and not a boy barely a toddler that inherits his dead mothers crown.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to let any child die in this war, I can see that is not what you want, but if you kill my wife today then you shall have to kill Theon of House Stark, because I will put a crown upon his baby head and hail him King in the North as his mother and uncles before him. You are a mother yourself, could you bring yourself to do it? To take a boy of three as they took your niece Rhaenys as slay his innocence to take his life?”

Steffon returned blackfyre outstretched to Jon but Daenerys held a hand up, her face carved ice, her expression unreadable. Jon did not care for the man’s words but he knew that there was something in them that gave Dany pause to think. Jon looked to her as if wanting permission from Dany to do what he wanted to do, her hand stilled his cravings however as she consented with the smallest of nods. 

“It appears Lady Stark that your husband has a brain in that head of his. Go. Get out of my sight , go home to Winterfell and explain to your children that your husband clearly adores why your lords and ladies will soon die. Explain that their castles with burn, their lands will bleed because their Queen was too proud to save her people. Too hungry for power to admit her crimes and set aside her crown and her life for her people. You will not die today Sansa Stark, the North will bleed because of this and you will witness as your people turn against you. Once it is said and done, once the seven kingdoms are once again ruled by its rightful King and Queen we will come for you and we will take everything from you.” Daenerys tone was non negotiable, her violet eyes were cold and calculating but the warmth of her hand on his as she made to sit stilled the fire within him momentarily and he looked to her questioningly but she simply nodded again, her eyes trained on their enemy. Not yet. That was her declaration. Not yet, but soon, they would be rid of Sansa Stark.

They were turning, exiting the hall surrounded by unsullied when Daenerys called her out her tone venomous. “I declared that Sansa Stark and the northern retinue could leave without harm upon them. I never said you could go Lord Tyrion”

The dwarf who had stayed so silent throughout the meeting froze as the unsullied batter his exit with long spears.

“I told you” She called sweetly as Tyrion slowly turned, his face that of a man who knew had been caught guilty. “The next time you failed me would be the last time you fail me. You did not disappoint. So” Daenerys clapped her hands together as Tyrion, Brienne and Podrick we marched back before the dais. “I Daenerys of House Targaryen, Queen of the seven kingdoms call Tyrion Lannister Lord of Casterley Rock and formerly Hand to the Queen to trial for the crimes of Treason and Regicide.”


End file.
